


Gravity Rises: The Order of the Crescent Eye [Episode Five]

by BrightnessWings19



Series: Gravity Rises Season Two [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gravity Rises, Episode 5, Gen, Season/Series 02, Sorophora
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightnessWings19/pseuds/BrightnessWings19
Summary: After a terrifying encounter with the Order of the Crescent Eye, now led by the unstable Pacifica Pleasure, Mabel wants to avoid the cult at all costs. But the Order has something that the Pines desperately need — and there is no choice but to return.





	1. Chapter 1

Mabel had been gone all day, and Dipper was getting worried.

He sat at the base of the stairs, anxiously bouncing his leg and staring at the door, Waddles asleep on his lap. Where was she? Should he go after her? She’d said she was going to help with a haunting at the Northwest Manor, but she’d been gone all day, and it was dark outside. Shouldn’t she be done by now?

His mind went over all sorts of terrible things that could’ve happened. He _knew_ he shouldn’t have let her go off with Gideon! He may have saved her down in the bunker, but that didn’t make him trustworthy. Dipper wouldn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, and Mabel shouldn’t either.

Huh. Funny how being afraid for Mabel made him as paranoid as Mabel.

“Do you want to go look for her?” Melody came into the entryway and leaned against the wall.

Dipper’s leg-bouncing sped up. “Yeah, but I doubt the Northwests would even let us into their front yard, much less their house. And what if she comes back while we’re out looking for her?” He sighed. “I’m not crazy, though, right? She should’ve been back by now?”

Melody nodded. “She should’ve been. And if you sit there for much longer, you’re going to go crazy worrying. We can leave a note just in case, but let’s get out there and start searching for her.”

She was right, of course. He’d feel much better going out and _doing_ something about it instead of just worrying. He eased Waddles off his lap and stood up. “Okay, but I’m gonna grab her grappling hook. Just in case we need to vault over the Northwest’s stupid gate.” He ran up the stairs, then paused on the top step and looked back down at Melody. “And grab the stun gun, too. You never know if we’ll need it, and Mabel may be in danger.”

Plus he would use it on Gideon in a heartbeat if the opportunity arose.

Five minutes later, Dipper was at the door, bundled in his coat and fiddling with the grappling hook in his hands. “I promise I’m just borrowing it, Mabel,” he said to it. “I’ll give it back as soon as we find you. Because we _will_ find you.”

Melody ducked into the entryway, pulling on her own coat. “All right, let’s—”

There was a strong, sharp knock at the door.

Dipper and Melody both jumped. Their eyes met. “Do you think it’s. . . ?” Melody began.

“That doesn’t sound like her knock,” Dipper said, butterflies of worry erupting in his stomach. It _could_ be Mabel, but it sounded more like some responsible adult, come to be the bearer of bad news.

But Dipper wasn’t one to wallow in anxiety when he could be acting. He pulled the door open.

And came face to face with Gideon Northwest.

Dipper saw red. Gideon started to say something, but Dipper didn’t hear. He sprang from the doorway and grabbed Gideon by the collar. “Where’s — my — sister,” he growled, getting up in Gideon’s face.

Gideon’s voice was strained, but he managed to force out: “She’s in danger.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. Gideon shoved Dipper off him, and he was too stunned to catch himself. He fell to the frozen porch with a _thud_.

Then the moment passed, and Dipper’s dismay was replaced with anger. He jumped to his feet. “What did you do?!” he shouted.

“I didn’t do anything! It was Pacifica!”

Dipper had been dreading Mabel being in danger. But he was not expecting this. “ _Pacifica_? But she disappeared!”

Gideon gave him a _no duh_ look. “Well, she’s back, and she has your sister, and if we want to save her we _have to go now_.”

Dipper glanced back to Melody’s anxious face, then up to Gideon. “We were just about to leave and go look for her. Do you know where she is specifically?”

“I know where she’s going,” Gideon said. “And. . . do you have to bring your maid?”

Dipper stared at him in disbelief. “She’s not our _maid_ , and of course she’s coming!”

“It’s okay, Dip,” Melody said, coming out onto the porch and closing the door. “I’m a lot of things, and a maid is one of them. Let’s just go get Mabel, all right?”

Gideon started off the porch, but Melody stepped forward to grab his shoulder. He turned, looking exasperated. “I’m as much Mabel’s guardian as Ford, maybe more,” she said, “and based on your track record, I can’t trust _either_ of these twins alone with you. So yes, I’m coming.”

“Fine,” Gideon snapped, twisting away from her. “Fine, I’m sure the twins would tell you everything anyway. Why not have more people know about the Order? I’m already going to be in huge trouble as it is.”

He stomped down the porch steps and out to the street, leaving angry tracks in the snow.

Dipper and Melody followed. “The Order?” Dipper echoed. “What’s that?” He knew he wouldn’t like the answer —what could be good about something Gideon Northwest was hesitant to share?

Gideon let out a long breath. “It’s a cult,” he said. “And Pacifica just got put in charge.”

“A _what_?” Melody asked.

“A cult. A cult that worships Bill Cipher.”

Dipper got a spontaneous shiver from that name. He’d never forget what that demon did to Mabel. “And you know about this how?”

Gideon stopped for a second, but then remembered their haste and resumed the quick pace down the street. He sighed instead. “I. . . I do some work for them. But I do _not_ worship Bill.”

“Good,” Dipper said forcefully. “You’d better not. Still, it figures _you_ would be part of a cult.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, Pacifica is now too. Her leadership is just temporary, but that doesn’t make the situation any better. She. . .” He hesitated.

Dipper tensed. “She what?”

“N-never mind,” Gideon said.

That just made Dipper’s fear spike. “You _never_ stutter,” he said, studying Gideon’s pale face. “What? What’s going to happen to Mabel?”

“Pacifica is. . .” Gideon took a deep breath, as if it pained him to say it aloud. “She’s planning to kill her.”

Dipper broke into a run.

“Dipper, wait!” Gideon called, speeding up as well. “You don’t even know where we’re going!”

“Then you’d better tell me _right now_!”

Gideon caught up with him. “The library. The entrance to Order headquarters is in the library.”

They’d all but left Melody behind now; she couldn’t compete with the speed of two teen boys. Dipper didn’t care, though. All he cared about was getting to Mabel as soon as possible. _Faster_ than that.

As they approached the library, Gideon held out an arm, forcing Dipper to slow down to avoid running into it. He turned on Gideon, but the Northwest put a finger to his lips. “There might be guards,” he whispered.

Gideon crept around the side of the wall until he could just barely peer around the corner to the back of the library. Then he pulled back and nodded to Dipper. “Two,” he mouthed.

Well, that was fine, they had the stun gun, right?

Oh. . . they had the stun gun, but it was back with Melody.

It probably didn’t take very long for Melody to catch up, but it _felt_ long to Dipper. His brain kept treading into forbidden territory and wondering, _What if it’s too late for Mabel by the time we get down there?_

Finally, Melody came to a stop near them. They both put their fingers to their lips to stop her from asking questions. “Stun gun,” Dipper breathed.

Melody nodded and got it ready. Gideon quickly and quietly told her what they were dealing with, and she held it up around the corner to shoot it at the guards.

“Who’s there?”

The harsh voice startled Melody so badly that she dropped the stun gun. Gideon immediately snatched it up from the snow, aimed it around the corner, and fired off two shots. There were two grunts of surprise, then twin thuds as the guards fell unconscious to the ground.

He turned on Melody. “You should’ve just given it to me in the first place. We’re lucky they didn’t raise the alarm.”

And with that, he stalked off.

Melody took a calming breath and followed, Dipper at her heels. Gideon stopped in front of a nondescript door that looked like an innocent back way for employees. The only thing that made it look out of place from the rest of the laidback town library was the keypad on the side.

Gideon punched in the code, and the door swung open with a quiet _woosh_ of hydraulics.

Just beyond the door was an unlit staircase, sweeping down into the darkness. It made Dipper feel like he was staring into an abyss. One that he was about to willingly enter.

“Welcome,” Gideon said grimly, “to the Order of the Crescent Eye.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mabel had been in all sorts of scary situations. She’d been trapped by evil clones, chased by a crazy shapeshifter, shoved out of her body by a demon.

But nothing came close to the sheer terror that consumed her now.

_I am going to die._

Even with all the dangerous things that had happened this winter, Mabel had never thought of the possibility of _death_. How could she? It’s not like anyone who died in accidents, supernatural or no, was expecting it.

But now she was expecting it. Pacifica had _told_ her what she was going to do to her.

She didn’t want to die. She was only thirteen! She had her whole life ahead of her! And she had unfinished business, too. Would Ford continue with trying to reactivate the portal even while mourning her? She could only hope he would. Stanley didn’t deserve to be abandoned, not for mourning, not for anything.

Her mind went in circles as Pacifica and her lackeys dragged her through Order headquarters, and her body shivered uncontrollably after that walk through the freezing winter night with no protection on her bare arms save the straps of her backpack. There was a part of her that was hoping, just maybe, Gideon would come and save her. But she couldn’t hang everything on that hope. Gideon was the only one of her allies who knew what had happened to her, and she didn’t even know if she could officially count him as an ally yet. Besides, he was probably facing Gaston’s wrath back at the Northwest Manor. Mabel had seen firsthand how much control that. . . that _monster_ had over his son.

If only Gaston were the one about to die instead of Mabel.

Mabel stopped when she had that thought, causing her to stumble as she fell behind the forced march. Where had _that_ come from? Mabel wasn’t one to wish death on anybody, not even that monster.

Must just be her terror taking over her rationality.

A few feet ahead, Pacifica put her hand up to bring the morbid procession to a halt. Mabel stumbled again when her captors stopped sooner than she did.

“Bill?” Pacifica was saying.

Mabel’s head snapped up. No. No no no. She was already in a bad enough situation. He could _not_ show up to make this worse.

“Bill, I’ve got her! I can finally be rid of her!”

Mabel frowned. Pacifica appeared to be talking to thin air. How was she talking to Bill, anyway? Couldn’t he only show up in dreams?

“ _What?_ What do you mean I can’t kill her?!”

Pacifica shot a glare of pure loathing back to Mabel, then turned back to the space where she evidently thought Bill was floating. Mabel watched her body sag, then stiffen, then stiffen some more. “Then what _will_ get rid of it?” she demanded.

The Order members surrounding Mabel did nothing to react to Pacifica’s rambling. Apparently this was a common occurrence.

“Oh, sure, like _that_ will work. ‘Mabel, darling, could you please stop sending your spirit out to torment me? Much appreciated.’”

What now?

Pacifica flinched from some unheard retort of Bill’s. “Sorry, Bill. This just came out of nowhere. I thought killing her was the answer and now you’re telling me it’s not!”

Mabel’s confusion was swept away by a sudden tide of relief. Did that mean. . . did that mean Pacifica _wasn’t_ going to kill her? There was a part of Mabel that screamed at her to not get her hopes up, but that part was drowned out by said hopes. _Too late. Hopes are way, way up._

Pacifica spun on her heel to glower at Mabel. Mabel had to fight to resist a relieved smile. “Change of plans,” she said nastily. “I’m not killing you.”

Mabel’s knees went weak, and she sagged against her captors. She would’ve fallen to the floor if their firm hands weren’t holding her up. She felt relieved tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She — she wasn’t going to die. _She wasn’t going to die!_

Pacifica frowned at her. “Don’t think this means you’re safe. Far from it.”

Mabel knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. _She wasn’t going to die._

“Follow,” Pacifica ordered, turning back around and leading the way down the labyrinth of tunnels. The tunnels weren’t much to look at: bare stone floor and walls, deep mahogany ceilings, the occasional bracket for a lantern. These appeared to be filled with flame, not electric lights, and so the light they cast was meager and dim. It meant there were constant shadows throughout the entire underground complex.

Eventually they made it to a round dead-end area that had a couple wooden doors set into the unyielding stone. Pacifica went to the center one and threw it open. She then instructed most of the large procession of Order members to go out and start patrolling, leaving four to stay with her and Mabel. Once the six of them were in the room — the Order members pushing Mabel none-too-gently — Pacifica turned to address them. “Welcome to my rooms,” she told Mabel.

 _This_ was where Pacifica had been? She lived here now? The room wasn’t too cramped, but it wasn’t huge either. Wouldn’t Pacifica have a diva fit over how plain it was?

“You there,” Pacifica said to one of Mabel’s captors. “Go and get a pair of handcuffs.”

Mabel’s stomach fell. Now that the relief over still being alive had passed, she had a full view of just how bad her situation was.

“Make that two pairs.”

The Order member gave a small bow and swept from the room.

Pacifica smoothed down her skirts and sat on the bed, while the rest of them stayed standing. Since thinking too hard about her situation was dangerous, Mabel instead focused on the different faces of the Order members, trying to figure out if she recognized any of them. There was Bud Pleasure, of course, but other than that she didn’t know the identities of anyone. Oh, she’d seen most of them around town, even some in the Mystery Museum, but she’d never learned their names or talked to them or anything. Even though she didn’t have connections to any of them, they still made her shiver.

 _Anyone_ could be an Order member.

Great. That was just what a girl with paranoid tendencies like Mabel needed.

The Order member returned with two pairs of handcuffs and handed them both to Pacifica. Pacifica stood up and crossed the room to Mabel. The Order members holding Mabel shoved her hands forward so Pacifica could cuff them together. The second pair was used to cuff Mabel to the base of a lantern bracket. The Order member who brought the handcuffs handed Pacifica the key that would unlock them. It was hung on a cord, which Pacifica tied around her neck, dropping the key into her dress and out of sight.

“Leave us,” Pacifica ordered.

“Are you sure, Miss Pleasure?” one of the Order members asked.

“I’m sure. Don’t leave the building, of course. Go out and patrol with the others. Make sure no one is coming to try to rescue Mabel. If you find anyone, subdue them and bring them to me.”

Mabel could see the disgruntled look in their eyes, and she was sure they would start muttering about how demanding Pacifica was as soon as they left the room. But they did as their leader said. One double-checked that Mabel’s handcuffs were secure, and then they all gave Pacifica a bow and filed out of the room.

Pacifica sat back down on the bed, out of Mabel’s reach. Mabel didn’t like being alone in a room with Pacifica one bit, but at least she wasn’t restrained by those Order members anymore.

After a long silence, Pacifica finally spoke.  “So,” she said quietly, looking up at Mabel with a contemplative expression. “How do you do it?”

Mabel braced herself for the confusion that always came when Pacifica started talking about her delusions. “Do what?” she asked wearily.

“Send your spirit out, of course. I didn’t know the amulets could do that.”

Yep, there it was. “Pacifica. . . let’s just pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Because she didn’t. “Sending out my spirit?”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Sure, I’ll play that game with you. Ever since you broke my amulet—”

 _Actually, Dipper broke your amulet._ But Mabel kept quiet, not wanting to stop the explanation.

“—there’s been some kind of ghostly presence haunting me. You. You follow me around during the day, sometimes just standing there glowering, sometimes making all sorts of threatening faces and gestures. Even now, you’re sitting on the bed with me, smirking. And at night. . .” Pacifica shuddered. Just a little, like she was trying to repress it, but enough that Mabel saw it. “At night is when you really torture me.”

Mabel didn’t say anything. How could she?

“Not physically — it’s your spirit, so it can’t touch anything — but you get into my head, make me think all sorts of terrible things, make me unable to _stop_ thinking. I just. . .” She swallowed, and what she said next — or, rather, _how_ she said it, with her voice trembling — made Mabel really worried. “I just want to be able to sleep.”

Mabel stared at her. Was that. . . empathy that just flared up in her chest? For _Pacifica?_

That was crazy. And yet. . . it _was_ empathy. Mabel knew exactly how that felt. Wanting so badly to sleep, but being kept up by awful memories or woken up by nightmares.

Pacifica suddenly shook her head and recomposed herself. “Is that why you wanted to play pretend?” she demanded. “To make me crack? To gloat over the success of your haunting?”

“N-no, I. . .” But how could she make Pacifica understand? She was so set in her delusions that Mabel didn’t think _anything_ could bring her to her senses. If she even had senses to begin with. “Pacifica,” Mabel started. _Don’t seem desperate. Just act calm._ “Pacifica, I had no idea this was happening to you. I haven’t been doing anything to hurt you. Something has been hurting you, I don’t deny that — but it hasn’t been me. I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know I want it to stop it too.”

There was a silence as Pacifica narrowed her eyes at Mabel, measuring her sincerity. “Well, I _thought_ that killing you would stop it. But Bill appeared to me and told me that killing you would just make it worse, since you can dedicate all your time to haunting me instead of just sending out a portion of yourself to do it. That _does_ make sense, but. . .” She trailed off, her brow furrowed as she thought.

“W-well, I don’t think killing me will stop it either,” Mabel said quickly. “I don’t know what will, though.”

_Mental help, maybe._

Pacifica sat up straighter. “Well, I suppose there’s only one way to find out for sure.”

The library?

“The library.”

Pacifica stood up and strode across the room. Huh. Mabel had never imagined her as someone who would use the library for research. She had this mental image of, well, Pacifica setting a pile of books on fire and laughing as they burned, just for the fun of it. The fact that both girls turned to libraries for answers. . . well, Mabel couldn’t help but be horrified. _Good_ guys used libraries. Bad guys didn’t. And Pacifica was a bad guy.

The bad guy in question unlocked Mabel’s second pair of handcuffs from the wall and using them to chain their wrists together. Then Pacifica yanked her hand away, making Mabel stumble. Great, even more dragging.

“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone,” Pacifica said. “Try to keep up.”

They left her rooms and backtracked through the tunnels a bit before taking a new path and going even deeper into the complex. Mabel didn’t know if Pacifica walked so fast because that was just how she walked, or because she wanted to trip Mabel up. Either way, it was hard to keep up with her.

As they walked, another thought captured Mabel’s attention. Bill. . . had Bill really _saved_ her life? Why? Why didn’t he just let Pacifica kill her? As far as Mabel could tell, it would certainly make his life easier. And yet, his word was the only reason Mabel was still standing.

Well, _standing_ was a stretch, considering how fast Pacifica was going.

Still, the fact that _Bill_ was responsible for her continued life made Mabel uneasy. Bill wasn’t merciful, not by any means. So keeping her alive must mean he wanted something else with her.

Mabel had no desire to find out what that was.

Although. . . _maybe_ Bill could’ve just been another one of Pacifica’s delusions. Mabel doubted it, though. Why would Pacifica imagine a conversation where she was denied the one thing she wanted most? No, Mabel had no doubts that Pacifica really could talk to Bill while she was awake.

They descended yet another set of stairs and entered the library. It was small, with some desks interspersed with the bookshelves. The Order had an entire library down here? What kind of books did they have? Mabel’s curiosity raged inside her.

But they weren’t here for Mabel’s curiosity, of course. They were here for Pacifica’s.

Pacifica clicked her tongue, looking around at the nearest bookshelf with her hands on her hips. Which meant Mabel’s hand that was chained to hers was at quite the awkward angle. Mabel tried to ignore that, though, and instead started to wonder how on earth they were going to find anything on here. The covers of the books were all solid covers, from what she could see, some even without titles. Unless Pacifica knew exactly where to find what she was looking for, they’d be down here for a while.

Pacifica didn’t know exactly where to find what she was looking for. Instead, she started reaching up (pulling Mabel’s arm up with her) and grabbing random books off the shelves, flipping through them for a minute, and then putting them back. Eventually she found one she liked and put it on a nearby desk. This pattern continued until there was a fairly large stack of books on the desk.

Then Pacifica sat down to read.

Mabel had to sit uncomfortably close to the psychotic girl to keep her arm from being torn from its socket. She settled in the best position possible, then set her eyes to roaming the bookshelves. What was even down here? Were all the books something like _How to Worship Your Demon Overlord_? Or were there other things? Obviously books about spirits, since Pacifica was down here for that topic, but did they have research on dreams? Magical creatures? Were there books that were collections of supernatural research. . . like. . .

Like the Journal?

Mabel’s eyes widened instinctively, and she was grateful that Pacifica was looking at those books and not at her. _The Journal._ Could. . . could the Journal be down here?

That would make sense! It’d be why no one ever found it, not like she and Gideon found theirs out in the woods. Although Ford didn’t know what happened to them. . . anything could have. Anything, including ending up down here in a secret underground library.

And Fiddleford. . . Fiddleford McGucket was the one who stole the Journals. Probably. Ford had told the twins he didn’t want to assume, but it made the most sense to Mabel. She’d found the third one in a hidden compartment by the bunker that Fiddleford had kept secret from Ford. It only made sense that he was behind their disappearance, right? Although in order to hide a Journal down here, Fiddleford would’ve had to have been a member of the Order. . .

_Crescent._

The laptop password. Crescent. It had been nonsense to Mabel at the time, but now she knew another name with that word: The Order of the Crescent Eye.

She felt a thrill go through her. Fiddleford _had_ to have been a member of the Order if he made the word _Crescent_ his password, right? And what better place to hide one of the Journals than in the headquarters of your cult? It _must_ be down here.

Mabel looked down at the handcuffs chaining her to Pacifica in dismay. She had a plausible theory that the first Journal was down here. But how would she look for it like this?

She thought for a while, then cleared her throat to get Pacifica’s attention. “Um. . . I’m feeling restless. Could I stand up for a while and walk around?”

Pacifica looked at her like she was the crazy one. “And pull on my arm?”

“Y-you could uncuff the ones connecting us. I-I mean, I’d still be cuffed.” Mabel held up her hands to show the cuffs on her wrists.

“Not a chance. You have to be tethered to something, preferably myself. Now shush up.”

Drat. Mabel would just have to wait until the next time Pacifica got up for more books. Who knew if her captor would even do that.

After an agonizing wait in which Mabel fought to stay awake — what time _was_ it, anyway? — Pacifica finally dragged her to her feet and over to the bookshelf. As Pacifica pulled books down from the shelf, Mabel tried as subtly as possible to do her own search. Her eyes scanned the shelves until they landed on a book with a maroon spine that was about the same height as the Journal. Then she would tease it out until she could see the cover. If there was no golden glint of an embossed hand, she’d move on to the next one. She left the books she’d checked sticking out slightly so she wouldn’t accidentally check one twice.

Pacifica seemed too absorbed in her own search to notice what Mabel was doing, but Mabel still got discouraged quickly. This was just one bookshelf. This library was small, yes, but the Journal could be on a shelf to which Pacifica never wandered.

“Have they really never catalogued this library?” Pacifica asked in exasperation. “There doesn’t even seem to be a system it’s organized by.”

 _They must be too busy worshipping that awful demon to do productive things like organizing books,_ Mabel thought. She wanted to say it out loud, too, but she didn’t dare.

Pacifica grabbed a stool from the side of the room, stomped over to another bookshelf, and started looking through that one. _Yes!_ Mabel started looking through these books, her hopes rising again, despite the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her this was pointless, that she’d never find it.

She checked one book, then another, making sure Pacifica was preoccupied between each one. After a particularly close call, Mabel paused, waiting a bit before checking the next one.

Pacifica dragged her over to put a book on the table. Then they were back at the bookshelf.

Mabel glanced at her, then slid her hand toward the next book with a maroon spine, careful to not pull the handcuff chains tight and notify Pacifica of what she was doing. She hooked a finger on the top of the spine, easing the book out of the bookshelf. It was on her right; she couldn’t see the cover from this side.

Then Pacifica moved over to the right, and Mabel moved with her. The cover came into view.

Mabel stifled a scream.

_Yes!_

The maroon binding was worn, like it had been well-loved in its time. The golden sheen of the six-fingered hand winked merrily up at Mabel. The black 1 sat solidly in the center, boldly declaring its presence.

Mabel had found the first Journal.


	3. Chapter 3

“What are you looking at?”

Mabel’s hand was suddenly jerked away from the Journal, and she looked up at Pacifica, trying and failing to keep her panic from showing on her face. Pacifica’s narrowed eyes were full of suspicion, and she stepped down from her stool. “Well?” she demanded.

Mabel stood frozen, trying to decide what to do. Could she bump into the Journal and slide it back in? It was only partly sticking out. Maybe —

Pacifica pulled the Journal from the shelf before Mabel could decide on an action. She frowned down at the cover. “I recognize this,” she said. “Gideon has one just like it.”

 _Had,_ Mabel thought. Gideon’s Journal was in her backpack, the one that was still on her back. Her heartbeat sped up as she realized that she had _both_ the missing Journals in the room with her — and if Pacifica took them, all would be lost.

Luckily, Pacifica hadn’t searched Mabel’s pack — yet. Unluckily, she was holding the first Journal in her hands. “He was looking for this exact book when we took over the Mystery Museum. Said that Stanford wrote them. You’re looking for it? Or just coincidence?”

Mabel opened her mouth, but Pacifica cut her off. “No, it couldn’t be coincidence. Otherwise why would you pull out that particular book out of all the ones in this library? You must be looking for it. What are you planning? Why do you need it? Was it Stanford’s idea? Is he the mastermind behind all this?”

What Pacifica thought “all this” was, Mabel couldn’t begin to imagine. But she said nothing.

Pacifica dragged Mabel off to the far side of the library to a desk against the wall. Then she cuffed Mabel to a lantern bracket and went over to set the Journal on the desk. Out of Mabel’s reach. Her heart sank.

 “We’re done here,” Pacifica said, reattaching Mabel’s handcuffs to her own wrist. “I may not know how to stop your spirit, but I can put that on hold if it means getting you far away from your prize. Let’s go.”

Mabel dug her feet in and pulled against the handcuffs, but to no avail. Pacifica was stronger than she was, and she simply pulled her off balance. Mabel had to follow, had to watch the first Journal disappear as they left the library.

She had been _so close_!

She felt like plodding along behind Pacifica, matching her gait to her mood, but she couldn’t even afford that luxury. She had to keep up with Pacifica’s brisk pace, or else she’d fall on the unforgiving stone ground.

Instead, she set to memorizing the path they took from the library to Pacifica’s room. It was no easy task: the tunnels looked completely identical, and there was nothing to use to visually keep track of where they’d been. They passed a couple of guard details, the Order members giving Pacifica a respectful nod, and that just reminded Mabel that even if she could make a break for it, the Order members would catch her long before she got back to the library.

The farther they got from the library, the more disheartened Mabel became.

When they got back to Pacifica’s room, Mabel was, of course, immediately cuffed to the same lantern bracket again. Pacifica stepped back once she was finished, frowning. Then she held her hand out. “Hand over your backpack.”

Mabel just stared at her.

Pacifica realized her mistake and laughed. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. _Guards!_ ”

Mabel clapped one hand to her ear, but the cuffs prevented her from reaching the other one. She couldn’t even cover her ears from Pacifica’s screams! First the panic of almost dying, then finding the first Journal only to get it torn away from her, and now this? And they were about to find the second Journal, too.

This evening felt remarkably like one of Mabel’s nightmares.

A pair of Order members came into Pacifica’s room. “Search her backpack,” Pacifica ordered.

Mabel moved so that the pack was between her and the wall, but that just made the Order members handle her more roughly. They spun her around, one of them holding her in place as the other rifled through her pack. Mabel arched her back to try to lessen the impact of the man’s large hands bumping against her through the backpack, but it did nothing to help.

She felt him pull out the second Journal. Her heart wormed its way down to her shoes.

“Basic séance supplies, a set of clothes, and this,” he reported, handing the Journal to Pacifica.

Pacifica gaped at it. “This is _Gideon’s_!” she cried. “You _stole_ it from him!?”

Mabel shuddered violently to try to throw the Order members off her. “No,” she said through gritted teeth. “He gave it to me.”

Pacifica let out a shriek of disbelieving laughter. “A likely story!”

“He did!”

Pacifica raised an eyebrow at Mabel and turned to the Order members. “You may go.”

They bowed and left. Mabel immediately drew her knees in to make herself as small as possible, trying to escape the feeling of their calloused hands on her bare arms. _Why_ had she agreed to wear this dress? It’s not like it had helped any when Pacifica caught sight of her.

“You already had the third Journal, I remember from that day,” Pacifica said, and pacing back and forth. “Now you’ve stolen Gideon’s, and you somehow found the first one in the library.” She turned to face Mabel head on. “You’re trying to collect them. All three of them.”

Mabel tried to hold Pacifica’s gaze, but she couldn’t. She buried her face in her arms and said nothing.

“Why?” Pacifica asked. “What are your plans?”

Mabel was silent. She didn’t know what the Order would do if they learned about the portal, but she knew it couldn’t be good.

“ _What are your plans?!_ ”

Mabel jumped at the sudden yell, her head lifting from her arms, her eyes catching a full view of Pacifica’s enraged face. She tried to make herself even smaller, pulling her head even further into her makeshift turtle shell. _Don’t hurt me don’t hurt me please don’t hurt me —_

“ _You want these Journals! Why? What can they do for you?!_ ”

Pacifica screamed at Mabel for a good five minutes, with Mabel trying to disappear into the stone walls. She wished her ears would stop ringing, wished her head would stop pounding, wished Pacifica would _stop shouting_. She tried to think up ways to escape, but it was hard to think about _anything_ with Pacifica invading her brain with her shrieks.

Finally — _finally_ — Pacifica stopped yelling. It was blissful at first, but after ten whole seconds of silence, Mabel knew something must be wrong. She opened her eyes and peeked out at Pacifica.

The cult leader was looking at Mabel pensively, her expression much too calm for someone who had just been screaming moments before. “I think,” she said quietly, “that we need to try something more. . . compelling.”

Pacifica stood up, crossed the room to a small bureau in the corner, set the Journal on top of it, and pulled something out of the top drawer. She turned back around, the knife glinting silver in the dim lamplight.

Mabel’s heart leapt to her throat.

“P-please,” she stammered. “D-don’t — I’m not—”

“No harm has to come to you,” Pacifica said, “if you tell me what you’re planning.”

Mabel’s eyes locked on the knife, her mind racing. Should she tell her? What would the Order do if they knew about the portal? Try to stop them from turning it back on, probably. Could she risk that? Would Ford be mad if she spilled? What if she spilled the beans about the portal to prevent Pacifica from spilling her _blood_?

Pacifica took a step closer. “Well?”

“I. . .”

“Spit it out, Mabel.” The glint in her eyes matched the shine of the knife.

“I-it won’t—” Suddenly her voice stopped working. She licked her dry lips.

Pacifica grabbed Mabel’s hand and pressed the tip of the knife into the center of her palm. “Won’t what?”

“It won’t hurt anyone!” Mabel gasped. “I-I swear!”

Pacifica paused for a moment, then increased her pressure on the knife, her eyes narrowing. “ _What_ won’t hurt anyone?”

A red spot of blood welled up from Mabel’s palm, clinging to the metal of the blade. Mabel’s head started swimming at the sight of it. _It’s okay, Mabes, it’s just a little blood, you’re fine._

“I could ram this right through your hand,” Pacifica whispered. “Tell me. What you’re planning.”

“I-I don’t think I—”

“ _Tell me!_ ” The crazed look in Pacifica’s eyes was terrifying. “Tell me _right now_ , or so help me, I’ll—”

Her mouth stopped working.

It just sat there, mid-word. The rest of her froze, too. Mabel wanted to weep with relief when she saw a familiar blue glow appear around the crazed girl.

Gideon was here.

He stepped forward from the doorway, levitating the knife out of Pacifica’s hand, away from Mabel. It was eerily silent, since his magic was preventing Pacifica from screaming.

“ _Mabel!_ ”

Dipper came barreling into the room, slamming into Gideon from behind — and breaking his eye contact. The blue glow disappeared.

Pacifica’s reaction was immediate. As soon as the glow was gone, she screamed, “ _Guards!_ ” and sprang forward, grabbing Gideon by the shoulder and ripping the amulet from his collar.

“What — no!” he spluttered. “ _Dipper!_ ”

But Dipper wasn’t listening, and neither was Mabel. “Mabel — you’re okay—” And he hugged her. She wanted to hug him back, but she still was locked in these stupid handcuffs.

“Get away from him!” Pacifica snarled, shoving them apart. From _him_? Dipper had come to _her_!

Dipper stumbled back, hitting the wall. He was helped back up to his feet by Melody. Wait — Melody? They’d all come for her? Was Ford here too?

Nobody else came through the door. But Mabel didn’t care. Dipper, Gideon, and Melody were much more than she could’ve hoped for.

Gideon lunged for his amulet, but Pacifica danced away from him. “Nuh-uh-uh,” she said, waving a finger at him like he was a naughty child.

“Melody, _stun her_!” Gideon ordered.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Pacifica said. She grabbed the knife from the floor. Mabel’s blood went cold as she approached her, grabbed her by the back of her dress, and held the knife to her. But not to her palm, this time.

To her neck.

Dipper gave a strangled noise, and Melody’s hand shook on the stun gun. “You could shoot,” Pacifica said conversationally, “but then if I fall unconscious to the ground, who knows where the knife will go? It could fly out of my hand, or” — she pressed the knife against Mabel — ”it could go right in through the skin.”

Mabel whimpered.

“Okay,” Gideon said in a placating tone, waving Melody off — though there was no need to, as she had already put down the gun. “Okay, Pacifica. You’ve won. What do you want?”

Mabel knew he was just saying that to calm her down, but hearing Gideon say “ _you won_ ” still made her want to shiver. She shoved the urge down with considerable effort — she wasn’t going to move a muscle. Not with. . . not while she was in danger.

“Well I _wanted_ her dead,” Pacifica said. “But Bill vetoed that.” She must have seen Gideon relax, because she straightened and repositioned the knife. “That doesn’t mean it’s off the table! Even if killing her _does_ make it worse for me, at least _you_ would be free of her!”

“Okay.” Gideon put his hands up. “No need to do anything rash.”

A deranged laugh bubbled up from Pacifica’s throat. “Trust me, I’ve been thinking this over for a _long_ time.”

“Pacifica,” Dipper tried, his voice cracking. “Pacifica, you like me, right?”

Pacifica looked over at him, her posture relaxing. “Of course I do, Dipper dear. This is for your good.”

“Mabel is important to me. A-and I know you think she brainwashed me into thinking that, but even if she did, hurting her would still make me upset.”

Pacifica’s grip on the knife wavered. Mabel closed her eyes. Dipper had better know what he was doing. “The transition to the truth will be hard,” Pacifica said. “But the pain will be worth it, Dipper.”

“Do you really want to be the one responsible for putting me through that pain?”

Pacifica’s hand trembled so much that Mabel was afraid of the knife cutting her on accident. Dipper was giving his former friend a pleading look, the one that few people could resist. There was a tense moment of silence as Pacifica considered her options.

Then she lowered the knife.

Mabel let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. It was all she had time to do before the room exploded into chaos.

Gideon ran forward and ripped the knife from Pacifica’s hands, while Dipper wrestled her to the ground. They didn’t seem to coordinate their attacks, and it was a lucky coincidence that they didn’t get in each other’s way.

Pacifica screamed at the top of her lungs, and Mabel’s headache — which had taken a back seat to the panic of the last few minutes — came rushing back. If there weren’t already guards running to Pacifica’s aid, there definitely were now. Mabel would be surprised if Pacifica didn’t make them all go deaf.

While the boys fought with Pacifica, Melody rushed to Mabel, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, shouting over the noise. “Are you okay? Do you know where the handcuff key is?”

“A-around Pacifica’s neck.”

Right after she said this, Pacifica’s screams came to an abrupt stop. A blue light had appeared around her, and Gideon stood over her, his amulet in hand. “Finally,” he said. “Some quiet.” He levitated the key off Pacifica and caught it, tossing it to Melody without looking at her. His eyes were fully focused on Pacifica. Mabel hadn’t realized that the amulet required eye contact until tonight, but it made sense.

Melody set to getting the cuffs off Mabel. “ _Two_ pairs?” she murmured. “This girl really, really needs help.”

“Tell me about it,” Mabel said, though Melody hadn’t been addressing her specifically. She rubbed her wrists, even though they weren’t hurting _too_ badly — she’d just seen it on TV so many times that it was instinctive.

Dipper came over to give Mabel a real hug, and Mabel accepted it gratefully, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered into his hair.

“No way I was going to let Pacifica hurt you,” he responded. He pulled back. “And — I brought your grappling hook.”

He went and grabbed it from the floor, where he’d dropped it when Pacifica pushed him into the wall. “I-it’s not mine,” Mabel said.

“’Course it’s yours,” Dipper said. “Ford gave it to you, and you’ve done great things with it.” He held it out to her.

She pushed it back. “That’s really sweet, but trust me, if we have to fight our way out of here, it’s better in your hands.”

Dipper opened his mouth to protest, but he was cut off by Gideon shushing him. Dipper turned on him, but Gideon put his finger up, as if he was telling them to listen. So Mabel and Dipper did.

The distant sound of feet pounding on stone reached their ears.

“Order members,” Gideon said, grimacing. “Quick, give me one of those pairs of handcuffs.”

Melody hesitated, but Mabel had no issues with restraining Pacifica. She handed a pair to Gideon, who levitated Pacifica onto the bed and cuffed her to the nearest lantern bracket.

“Guards!” Pacifica screamed as soon as Gideon’s magic let go of her. “Where are those idiots? _Guards_!”

“We dispatched of all the guards we’ve run into,” Gideon said. “The ones that even heard you had a long way to go to get here. Still, they’re close, so we’d better get out of here. Mabel, do you still have my Journal?”

She snatched it off the dresser and stuffed it into her backpack. “Yes, but—”

“Good.” Gideon grabbed her by the wrist and ran out of the room, pulling her behind him. Melody and Dipper were right on their heels as they tore down the halls. “Melody, keep that stun gun ready!”

No sooner than he said it did the Order members appear. Two of them, with more footsteps thundering behind. Melody raised the stun gun and fired off a shot, but it went wild. Gideon froze one of the guards, but the other body-slammed him to the floor, breaking the spell.

“Tyler, come help me get this amulet off him!” the Order member yelled. Right after he said it, he froze, glowing blue.

Dipper rushed the other Order member, Tyler, but he put his foot out, sending Dipper sprawling to the floor. Melody aimed the stun gun at one guard, then the other, hesitating. Mabel realized she must be worried about hitting Gideon or Dipper.

Tyler joined the fray just as two more Order members came barreling around the corner. Melody tagged one of them, but the other rushed her, wrenching the stun gun from her hands. Melody tried desperately to get it back before the guard turned it on her, and Dipper ran over to help. Mabel just stood there in a panic. What could she do? Would she just make it worse?

“No!” Gideon shouted as Tyler held up the amulet triumphantly. The other Order member hauled Gideon to his feet and pinned his arms behind his back. “If you damage that, you’ll have to explain to our leaders just why you got rid of our only way to wipe memories!”

“Wasn’t planning on damaging it,” said the Order member that held him. “Tyler, go take that to Gideon’s father.”

Tyler’s shoulders slumped, as if dreading the long trip, but then he sighed and took off running.

“You bring that back here!” Gideon stomped hard on the foot of the Order member holding him, trying to get free of him.

“Mabel!” yelled Dipper, pulling her focus to the fight over the stun gun. “Catch!”

And he flung the stun gun to her.

She managed to touch it, changing its trajectory, then catch it as it spun in the air. With the Order member in her sights and a quick plea for accuracy, Mabel fired.

The Order member dropped to the ground.

Mabel let out a huge breath of relief, proud of herself. She immediately handed the stun gun back to Melody, though. She didn’t want to be responsible for it.

“Melody, stun this guy!” Gideon called, still struggling against his captor. As he said it, he twisted his body so the Order member was mostly between him and the stun gun.

Melody fired. The shot connected with the Order member’s shoulder blade, and he dropped.

On top of Gideon.

Mabel and Dipper ran over to help the Northwest get out from under the guard’s unconscious body. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “There will be more.”

“Wait!” Mabel said. “We can’t go yet — we have to go back to the library!” Her rescuers looked confused, but she plowed on. “The first Journal is in there!”

Silence.

Gideon smacked himself in the forehead. “Of _course_. A library about the supernatural. Of course the first Journal would be there!”

“No,” Melody said. “No, it’s too dangerous. That already was too close. We can come back for the Journal later. With Ford.” She grimaced, and Mabel knew she didn’t like the idea of coming back here willingly. Well, neither did Mabel.

“But Melody!” Mabel said. “It’s _here_!”

“I don’t know the way to the library from here,” said Gideon. “But I do know the way out. We can’t risk you falling back into Pacifica’s hands, Mabel. We need to get you home safely.”

“But — we might not have _time_ to come back! We have to save Stan as soon as possible!”

“Mabel,” Melody said firmly. “You are our first priority. Our _only_ priority. We have to get you home.”

Mabel wanted to argue, but she had to admit it felt good to hear Melody say that.

More distant footfalls echoed down the stone halls. “This way,” Gideon said. He led them to a nearby intersection, then down a hallway that led away from the footsteps. Melody took ahold of Mabel’s hand, probably to prevent Mabel from running off and trying to find the library. _Don’t worry, Melody, I’m not_ that _stupid._

They ran in silence, too afraid of being overheard by their pursuers to say anything. After a while, Mabel started to think of Melody’s hand as a lifeline rather than a restriction. It was warm, soft, firm. It made her feel safe.

Gideon asked Melody for the stun gun, and she handed it over to him without argument. They ran into another pair of Order members, and Gideon dropped them with two rapid-fire shots. Soon after, they reached the stairs that would lead the way out of the Order headquarters. Mabel felt it before she saw it. The freezing wind somehow made it all the way down the stairs to bite at the skin on her arms. She shivered, grabbing her jacket out of her pack and shrugging it on over her dress.

Melody came up behind her to rub her arms through the jacket. “Did you walk all the way here without that?”

Leave it to Melody to notice something like that. Mabel nodded. “Y-yeah, I guess I did. I was kind of. . . preoccupied.”

Melody gave her a sympathetic look.

“Come on,” Gideon prompted.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here before any more of those dumb Order members come and see us,” Dipper said.

“They’re not dumb,” Gideon said as they all started up the stairs. “They simply think they’re doing the right thing.”

Dipper gave him an incredulous look. “Anyone who thinks praising that isosceles monster is ‘the right thing’ is _dumb_.”

“He’s not _isosceles_ , Dipper, he’s _equilateral_.”

The boys bickered the rest of the way up the stairs. But about halfway up, Mabel paused, looking back down into the dim light of the Order headquarters.

The Journal was down there somewhere.

And she was just going to leave it.

“Mabel?” Melody asked.

“C-coming.”

With a deep breath, Mabel turned away and followed her rescuers back up into the real world.


	4. Chapter 4

Gideon’s collar felt empty.

Every time his hand went up to rub the amulet, a habit he’d gotten into over the years, he remembered all over again. His amulet was gone. They’d bested him and taken it right off him. And now it was on the way back to the Northwest Manor.

On the way into the hands of Gaston.

He tried not to dwell on that thought as he, Mabel, Dipper, and Melody walked down the street towards the Mystery Museum. This was a happy occasion — they’d rescued Mabel. That was all that really mattered right now.

Mabel sidled up beside him. “Hey,” she said.

“Hey. You feeling okay?”

She shrugged. “As okay as I can be after all that.”

Gideon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about Pacifica. She really is my friend, but. . . well, since she won’t apologize, I will.”

“Thanks,” Mabel said. “A-and thank you for coming after me. It really means a lot.”

She stopped and, blushing, pulled him into a quick hug.

He returned it. “What are friends for?”

She pulled back and looked up at him. She was easily half a head shorter than he was. “Are we friends now?”

“Of course,” he said. “Wasn’t that obvious?”

Mabel smiled and shook her head. “You never can tell with you.”

Gideon blinked. He thought he’d been perfectly obvious. He’d started acknowledging her existence, hadn’t he?

Mabel went up to walk next to Melody, but Gideon hung back. He usually hated physical contact of any kind — too many bad memories. But Mabel. . . hugging Mabel felt good. Safe.

“So, big day, huh?”

Gideon looked over to see Dipper smile a knowing little grin. He rolled his eyes. “Yes, if that somehow escaped your notice. We did just have to rescue your sister from a cult.”

Dipper didn’t rise to the bait. “Mabel doesn’t give hugs to just anyone, you know. And if I had asked her if she wanted to hug you yesterday, she would’ve looked at me like I’d gone crazy. What changed?”

Gideon simply shrugged.

The boys caught up to Mabel and Melody. The Pines chatted amiably with each other, but Gideon’s mood dropped with every step he took. He had to go back. He’d run away from his father. And now his amulet was in Gaston’s hands, too. If he wanted it back. . . he had to go and endure whatever torture Gaston had in mind.

Well, he might as well get it over with now.

He came to a stop in the street. “Well,” he said, “this is where I leave you.”

Mabel stopped, her eyes widening. “Wait — now?”

“Yes,” Gideon said. “I’ve done what I needed to do. And now it’s time to go home.”

He could see Mabel’s mind racing behind her eyes. “Um — but — d-don’t you want a chance to give Ford the second Journal yourself?”

He paused. Did he? It would be a good excuse to put off his punishment. He suspected that Mabel was offering solely for that reason. But. . . he already had to give the Journal away once. He wasn’t sure if he had the resolve to do it again.

Mabel grabbed his hand. “C’mon, I bet it would really mean a lot to Ford.”

So Gideon let her drag him after her, though he doubted Ford would care either way. As long as he got his Journal back. Still, Gideon couldn’t find it in him to resist procrastinating Gaston’s wrath for just a little longer.

The walk back to the Museum took longer now that they weren’t in a hurry. They still walked fast, though, to get out of the cold. Towering snowbanks on either side of the street glistened in the moonlight, and light snowflakes started drifting down to add to them.

After a while, Mabel started shivering. Gideon started pulling an arm out of his coat to give it to her, but by the time he got it off, she was already wrapped in Dipper’s. He shot Dipper a glare behind Mabel’s back. Dipper shrugged, grinning at Gideon’s eagerness.

When Dipper started to shiver, Gideon did nothing to help warm him up.

The Mystery Museum was dark when they made it up the steps. “Oh, I forgot the porch lights,” Melody said. She opened the door and hit a light switch inside; the porch lights flickered on overhead. “I swear, when none of us but Ford is home, this place looks abandoned.”

They all filed in. “Thank goodness,” Mabel said. “I’m gonna go change.”

She gave Dipper his coat back and hurried off to the bathroom.

“Well,” Melody said, “I think this victory calls for some hot chocolate. Who’s in?”

“Me!” Dipper said. Gideon shrugged.

As Melody went into the kitchen, Waddles came. . . well, waddling into the entryway.

“Hi, Waddles! We got Mabel!” Dipper scooped the pig into his arms. Wasn’t that thing heavy?

Dipper held Waddles up to Gideon, who shied away. “Do you remember Gideon, Waddles? You attacked him once. It was awesome.”

 _Not for me_ , Gideon thought.

A few minutes later, Mabel came back into the living room, to where the boys had moved as they waited. “Much better,” she said. She was back in her everyday outfit, with her pine tree shirt and orange hoodie. “Here, Gideon.” She held out the black dress she’d worn, draped over her arm.

“Oh,” he said. “You can keep that. It doesn’t even fit my mother anymore, and it’s not going to do any good wasting away in that closet.”

“You sure?” Mabel said. “Because it’s probably going to waste away in my closet, too.”

Gideon shrugged. “You never know. Go ahead and keep it.”

“Okay.” Mabel put her backpack and the dress down on the couch. She reached into the pack and pulled out the second Journal. Oh. Right. That.

“So,” she said, handing it out to Gideon. “Should we go give it to him?”

Gideon took the Journal hesitantly. It felt good to hold it again, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. “Won’t Ford be asleep?” he tried.

There was a scoffing noise from behind him, and Gideon looked back to see Melody, standing in the entryway with a mug. “No,” she said. “He’ll be up. Probably just to spite me, at this point.” She lifted the mug and sighed. “Well, maybe I can bribe him to bed with hot chocolate.”

Gideon got to his feet, holding the Journal against his chest, and followed Melody down the hall, with Mabel and Dipper trailing behind.

When they reached a closed door, they heard a growl of frustration through the wood. “No! Not you too!” There was a faint crash. “Stupid cameras!”

Melody tried the knob, sighed when it wouldn’t turn, and knocked. “Ford?”

“I’m fine, Melody,” he called, sounding peeved. “Don’t disturb me unless the world is ending.”

Gideon took a deep breath. “What if someone had your Journal?”

There was a long pause. Then the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and, a few seconds later, the lock on the door turning. “Come in.”

Melody rolled her eyes and opened the door, letting her three companions enter the room before following suit and closing the door behind her. They appeared to be in a lab of some kind.

Ford stood a few feet away, looking haggard. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his hair stuck out in all directions, as if he’d been running aggravated hands through it. Underneath it all, though, Gideon could see his excitement.

Gideon took a few slow steps forward. Was he really going to do this? He used to read this Journal with a flashlight under the covers. He used to read it after particularly painful sessions of punishment. He basically had it memorized at this point, but. . . he still liked having it in front of him, waiting to be read once more.

He steeled himself and held the Journal out to Ford. “I found this buried out in the woods a few years back,” he said. “It’s. . . important to me, but Mabel told me about what you’re trying to do. So I’m giving it back to its original owner. Um. . . good luck.”

Ford took the Journal and stared down at it with disbelieving eyes. After a moment, he tucked it under his arm and looked up at Gideon. “Thank you,” he said with a small, tired smile.

They stood there for a minute. “Well, I’d better be going, then,” Gideon said. “Thanks for. . . for writing it.”

He turned and walked out of the lab.

He was just about to open the door to leave when he heard running footsteps behind him. “Hey,” Mabel said. “I-I know what comes next. What you’re going to face if you leave now.”

No, she didn’t, not really. She knew the basics, though, and that was enough to worry her. Gideon appreciated that.

“S-so,” she continued, putting herself between Gideon and the door, “you can stay here. Hide out, wait until this all blows over. I’m sure Melody will be happy to have you. W-we’ll keep you safe.”

Gideon smiled and put a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “It really means a lot. But I can’t.”

“Wh-why not?”

“Because,” he said, “my father won’t stand for it. He’ll send servants after me, possibly even come himself if the servants fail. I couldn’t force that on your family, especially without my amulet to defend myself. I need to go get it back. And the longer I try to stall, the worse it’ll be for me later.” He sighed. “Thank you for the offer.” He moved to get around Mabel.

“Wait!” Mabel grabbed at his sleeve. “Gideon, this is — this is a _crime._ Why haven’t the cops put a stop to this?”

Gideon gave a humorless laugh. “Please. There may be cops here, but in name only. They wouldn’t dare accuse _Gaston Northwest_ of anything. And even if they did, the Order would just wipe their memories.”

“But aren’t _you_ in charge of wiping people’s memories?”

Gideon closed his eyes. “I thought I was. I acted like I was to try to stop them from taking my amulet. But I think there may be. . . other methods.”

When he opened his eyes again, Mabel was staring at him, looking like she was about to cry.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. Going to save you was far, far more important than submitting to my father. I’ll make it.”

“Can — can I come visit you?”

Gideon’s small, reassuring smile faded. “No. . . I don’t think so. I wouldn’t want you to get caught in this. My father will have plenty against you after tonight. Gaston hates being defied.”

“And insulted,” Mabel said with a tiny half-smile.

Gideon smiled back. “You definitely told him.”

He moved to grab the doorknob, but then remembered something. “Oh. I forgot.” He reached into an inside pocket and pulled out a stack of dollar bills, bundled together in a rubber band. He held it out to Mabel.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Payment. For helping with the ghosts.”

“O-oh.” Mabel reached out and took it, not looking at it. “Thanks.”

“Thank _you_ , Mabel. You were wonderful today. I’m sorry for how it ended.” He stepped around her. “Goodbye, then.”

“G-goodbye.”

Gideon opened the door and stepped out into the frigid night, heading out into the darkness and leaving the light of the Mystery Museum behind.


	5. Chapter 5

Gideon left without getting any hot chocolate.

Dipper and Melody came out of the lab not long after he left. “Did Gideon leave, then?” Melody asked.

Mabel just stood there and stared at her.

“Woah, Mabes, what’s wrong?” Dipper asked. “Was he being a jerk to you again?”

“What? No!” Mabel recoiled from Dipper as he reached out to touch her. “Dipper, he _saved_ me!”

Dipper put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay.” He looked shocked at Mabel’s violent reaction, but she didn’t care. “Let’s. . . let’s get to bed, Mabes.”

“Good idea,” Melody said. “You two can have your hot chocolate some other time.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “The hot chocolate.”

“Mabes?” Dipper asked.

She went over and sat numbly at the base of the stairs. “He didn’t get any hot chocolate,” she murmured.

“Well, no, I guess he wanted to leave as soon as possible to go get his amulet back,” Dipper said. “But hey, more for us, right?”

Mabel shot him an incredulous look. How could he be so _rude_? Gideon was going back to the Manor, back to his _father_ , and Mabel wasn’t able to stop it! She couldn’t even make sure he got _hot chocolate_ before he — before he —

She broke down in tears.

She cried for lots of reasons. For herself — for the terror she’d gone through tonight. For Ford — after all that, she couldn’t even rescue the first Journal. For Gideon — he ran away to save her, and she couldn’t even do anything to repay him. He was going to get the brunt of his father’s fury — for _her_.

Dipper sat down next to Mabel and put an arm around her. “It’s okay, Mabes,” he whispered. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay now.”

 _No, it’s not!_ She wanted to scream it out, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even whisper it. She could only cry. Her shoulders heaved as Dipper held her close.

Melody came and sat next to them, joining in on the hug. The three of them sat there, with Mabel enveloped in Dipper and Melody’s arms. It took a long, long time, but eventually her tears slowed, her breathing evened out.

“Let’s get you two to bed,” Melody said gently.

So Mabel got shakily to her feet. Melody gave both twins a hug, though Mabel’s was longer than Dipper’s, and bade them goodnight.

Dipper took Mabel’s hand. “C’mon, Mabes, let’s go.”

The two of them ascended the stairs, and Mabel glanced back at the door one last time before it disappeared from view.

~~~~~

Mabel woke up with rays of sunlight streaming merrily through the attic window. She’d been tossing and turning all night, plagued with nightmares. But now, with the sun brightening the room, the nightmares were swept to the corners of her memories, and she couldn’t tell you specifics from them if you asked. She felt, mercifully, rested and ready to face a new day.

The sound of pounding feet came floating through the door, then stopped as they came closer. The door opened silently, and Dipper peered into the attic.

When he saw her sitting up in bed, he pushed the door open wide. “You’re up! Sweet! How do you feel?”

Mabel swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching. “Better.”

“Awesome! Hey, Melody made waffles! She says it’s to celebrate your safety, but I’d take waffles any day.”

Mabel smiled. “Melody definitely likes to celebrate with food. Not that I’m complaining, no way.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome,” Dipper said. “So you’ll be down in a minute, after you get dressed?”

“Yep.”

Dipper shot her a grin before turning and racing away.

Ten minutes later, Mabel came down the stairs, welcomed by the wonderful smell of hot waffles. When she got to the kitchen, Dipper was sitting at the table, staring hungrily at a plate stacked high with the breakfast food. “Hi, Mabel!” he said when he saw her. “Melody’s gone to drag Ford out here to eat with us.”

“Good luck to Melody, then,” Mabel said as she pulled out a chair.

The twins waited a few minutes for the adults. Mabel was impressed that Dipper managed to refrain from snitching; she was pretty hungry too. Eventually, however, Ford turned into the kitchen. “Mabel. Melody says you have information about the first Journal?”

Abrupt as always. Mabel opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by Melody hurrying after him. “Not until after breakfast, Mabel. Which I told Ford as well.” She shot a pointed look to her charge. “Can’t we just have a normal family breakfast without worrying over things like that?”

Ford gave a disgruntled sigh and plopped into a chair.

“Thank you,” Melody said, taking the final chair. “Mabel? How are you this morning?”

“Okay,” Mabel said. “Definitely better now that I get waffles.”

“You definitely deserve them. Eat up!”

The waffles were delicious. Dipper drowned his in syrup, but Mabel decided to try the strawberry sauce Melody made. That turned out to be a great decision.

Melody led the conversation, with Dipper joining in happily and Ford just grunting whenever he got asked a question. It was just about run-of-the-mill things, like the weather and the food and interesting experiences running Mystery Museum tours. Usually these topics grated at Mabel’s patience, but today they felt like a welcome distraction. All her traumatic memories floated at the edges of her consciousness, blessedly driven back by discussing the simple, mundane instances of life with her family.

Eventually, Melody stood up to clear their dishes. Ford immediately sat up straighter and braced his hands on the table. “So? What’s this news I’ve been so cruelly kept from?”

Melody came back to the table to grab his plate, rolling her eyes. “Oh yes, so cruel. Served a wonderful waffle breakfast while surrounded by family. Terrible torture.”

Ford rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated.

Melody insisting the conversation be kept away from the Journals had been nice, Mabel had to admit, though she knew she would be just as frustrated as Ford if she was in his situation. She opened her mouth to tell him what she found last night, but closed it again as she realized — he didn’t even know what happened yesterday! He didn’t even know she’d been abducted!

“Well?” Ford demanded.

Mabel took a deep breath to calm her rising indignance. It didn’t really work. “A lot happened yesterday,” she said. “And you don’t even know about any of it because you’ve been hiding out in your lab.”

“I’ve been trying to find the Journals!” Ford said. “I’ve been scouring the forest with my cameras, and trying to remember anything that might give me clues. Yes, I haven’t been around. But Stanley needs me! And to help him, I need all three Journals!”

“Well, no need to keep looking, because I found both of the missing ones yesterday.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “ _Both_ of them? Then where’s the first one?”

Dipper jumped in. “No ‘congratulations’? No ‘thanks, Mabel, you’re amazing’? She only got you one of your Journals back. From _Gideon Northwest_ , no less. And she found the other one too! The least you can do is act grateful!”

Ford waved an impatient hand at his grand-nephew. “Mabel, where’s the first Journal?”

“Don’t answer that, Mabel,” Dipper said, folding his arms. “Not until he gives you the respect you deserve.”

Mabel understood why Ford was so impatient, but it that didn’t make his failure to thank her hurt any less. She kept her mouth firmly closed.

The kitchen was silent for a minute, save for the sounds of Melody cleaning up breakfast. Then, finally, Ford let out a deep, ragged sigh. “Fine. Thank you, Mabel, for doing so much to help me save my brother.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I-I mean, you’re welcome. Um. . . yeah. The first Journal is. . . well. . . Do you know anything about the Order of the Crescent Eye?”

Ford frowned. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s. . . it’s a cult. It’s a cult with an underground lair here in town. And Pacifica Pleasure just got made leader.”

“A twelve-year-old?” Ford asked incredulously. “Can’t be a very dangerous cult if they have to entrust it to a child.”

Wrong thing to say.

“Of _course_ it’s dangerous!” Mabel exploded. “Pacifica has a bunch of minions now to replace her amulet! She can talk to Bill even when she’s not asleep! She _kidnapped_ me last night, Grunkle Ford! She was going to—”

She stopped. The words wouldn’t come. That would mean reliving the terror.

Dipper put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mabes. You’re safe now.”

Mabel took a deep breath. “She took me down to their lair. And that’s where I found the Journal.”

“We weren’t able to take it,” Dipper added, “because there were a bunch of Order members between Pacifica’s room and the library — where the Journal is — and we couldn’t risk it. It’s a good thing we at least got to take the second Journal back from Pacifica, though, otherwise I don’t know if we even would’ve been able to give you _that_.”

Ford rested his elbows on the table. “So we need to go back and steal it? What kind of cult is this Order, anyway?”

Dipper answered for Mabel, because she wasn’t able to say the name. “They worship Bill.”

“And wipe everybody’s memories of the supernatural,” Mabel said.

Ford frowned. Melody came over to wipe down the table. “But _we_ know about the supernatural,” she said. “Did they just miss us?”

“No. . .” Mabel hesitated. “I don’t really know how to explain, because I don’t really understand myself — a ghost told me, and I was pretty distressed at the time. But. . . there’s this thing, called the Cipher Wheel? And we’re all on it? There are ten people total, and if they work together they can. . . do something to stop Bill from escaping this dimension.”

“What does this have to do with keeping our memories?” Dipper asked.

“Well. . . being on the Wheel somehow keeps us safe from the Order,” Mabel said. _Although not safe enough to prevent last night’s kidnapping._

“That sounds vaguely familiar,” Ford said. “Wait just a moment.”

He hurried out of the kitchen.

Melody put the rag down and sat at the table. “So. . . we’re part of a magical group of people that are somehow immune to getting our memories removed?”

“Something like that,” Mabel said.

Melody sat there pensively for a minute. Then her eyes widened. “ _Ohhhh!_ ” she exclaimed. “So _that’s_ why my friends seemed to forget! About watching Ford go adventuring as kids. Because they _actually forgot._ ”

“And the Order missed you because you’re on the Wheel,” Mabel said. “But. . . but Ford forgot. He completely forgot about Stanley, and even now that he’s trying to save him he can’t remember things like Shifty being down in the bunker. So. . . ?”

Ford came back into the kitchen, holding the second Journal. “That is a good question,” he said, apparently having overheard Mabel. “I guess the Wheel doesn’t completely protect us.”

He put the Journal on the table and opened it. “I haven’t gotten to look through this yet, because _someone_ made me go to sleep last night before I could.” He glanced at Melody. “But the Cipher Wheel. . . I think there might be something about that in here.” He started flipping through the Journal. “Either that, or the first one. But I think it’s the second. . . a-ha!”

He flipped the Journal around so all of them could see it. On the page was a picture of Bill — Mabel shuddered — surrounded by a circle of seemingly-random symbols. Ford pointed to the six-fingered hand. “That’s me. It’s even the same style as the one on the front of this cover. And that’s Melody, the question mark, and Mabel, the pine tree, because those are on your favorite shirts.”

“Well, the question mark shirt is my work shirt,” Melody said. “But yes, I do like it.”

“Hey!” Dipper said, pointing to the shooting star. “Didn’t Bill call me Shooting Star when we went into Robbie’s mind? And there’s a star on my shirt, too.”

Ford turned the Journal back around so he could study the Cipher Wheel. After a moment, his eyes went sad. “Stanley,” he whispered.

Mabel had seen it too. “That triangle looks an awful lot like the portal,” she said quietly. “Do you think that’s him?”

Ford shook his head and closed the Journal. “It might be. All the more reason to save him, if we really need all ten people to do anything to stop Bill. So the Order is in possession of the first Journal?”

“Yeah,” Mabel said. “Their lair is beneath the town library. And the Journal was in a different, underground library, but Pacifica may have moved it after we found it. I don’t know how much she knows about the Journals.”

“Gideon brought yours to the Museum when Pacifica took over, so she probably at least knows about them,” Dipper said. “I dunno if she cares, though.”

Mabel shuddered. “She could very well want to use them to find new ways to terrorize us.”

“Yeah, she — _oh!_ ” Dipper exclaimed. “Oh! I’m an idiot!”

There was a beat of silence. Melody opened her mouth, probably to assure him that he wasn’t, but Dipper plowed on.

“When Pacifica kidnapped me — huh, we have that in common now, Mabel — Gideon came in with the third Journal, and I got up and yelled in his face because it was _not okay_ — but I didn’t see the second Journal! I mean, I’m sure I _did_ see it, I just didn’t commit it to memory. I should have. Later, Gideon told Ford and me that he only stole yours because he’d _heard_ of them, and I thought that sounded fishy, but I didn’t know why. Turns out he lied to us. Big surprise.”

Melody reached across the table to put a hand on his arm. “You were stressed out that day, Dip. Not remembering details like that is completely understandable.”

“That is not something I would have wanted to have in common with you,” Mabel said, rubbing her arm. “But yeah, I figured he had one, otherwise how could he have known about the importance of mine? I should’ve realized earlier, but I just thought of it when we were at his mansion and asked if he would return it to its author.”

“Let me guess, he got all offended and compared it to his outright thievery of yours.”

Mabel chuckled. “Yeah, he did. How did you know?”

Dipper shrugged. “I read people.”

“ _So_ ,” Ford said, bringing the tangent to a stop. “We need to go get it. I’ll put the two Journals we do have together and see if that gives me the information I need to get started, but I’m not going to get far without the first one. I’ll go and start planning—”

“Nope.” Melody stood up. “Well, you can plan all you want, but it’s gonna have to be while you’re working. The Museum is going to open soon, and you haven’t helped out in a while, even though it’s your business. Come plan while you work. It does wonders for your creativity.”

When Ford gave her a noncompliant look, she put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “You know where your Journal is. You don’t need to hole up in your lab anymore. The next step is planning, and nothing is better for planning than doing mundane, repetitive work. Trust me, Stanford Pines, I would know. Come on.”

She left the kitchen.

Ford raised an eyebrow at the twins. “Well, I guess she means business if she’s calling me by my full first name.” He stood up. “Don’t leave me to suffer alone, kids. Come work to earn your waffles.”

Mabel and Dipper shared a look — those waffles were a celebration gift, but fine, Ford, whatever you say.

When they got out to the gift shop, Melody was looking around with arms folded. “Where is that Robbie?” she said. She turned when she heard the footsteps of the three Pines, and smiled. “Wonderful! The twins can get started on cleaning — I’ve been giving you a break, Mabel, since that. . . event, and Dipper isn’t as thorough of a cleaner as you are. But if you need to rest at all, just tell me. And as for you, Ford. . .”

Mabel grabbed a spray bottle and made sure to position herself near Dipper, so they could talk while they worked. Usually she would prefer working in solitude, but she didn’t want to give herself any thinking time, not after what happened last night. That, on top of her trauma with Bill. . . she would just keep herself too preoccupied to dwell on it.

Because if she didn’t. . .

Well, best not to think about that.


	6. Chapter 6

The Pines worked in the Museum for the rest of the morning, much to Ford’s displeasure. Melody even considered having him lead a tour at one point, but then decided his grizzled, unkempt appearance would scare the tourists away. She instead set him to restocking supplies in the gift shop, watched over by Robbie — who showed up half an hour late for his shift — to make sure the old man didn’t sneak off.

Mabel and Dipper cleaned the museum displays between tours, then went to clean in the gift shop, washing windows and wiping down decorations and dusting merchandise that hadn’t been touched by tourists in a while. While they worked in the gift shop, Ford provided a soundtrack. He groaned whenever he shifted positions, his joints cracking, and gave disbelieving comments over some of the merchandise he was restocking. Apparently Melody was more in charge of this business than Mabel had supposed.

“Hey Mr. Pines, you’re making the customers uncomfortable,” Robbie said, after a group of them checked out and left the Museum.

“That’s ridiculous. Just because I’ve been away for a bit doesn’t mean I can’t show my face. This is _my_ business.”

Robbie shrugged. “It doesn’t exactly seem that way, considering you don’t even know what’s in that merch you’re restocking.”

Ford slammed down the bigfoot bobblehead he was holding in a huff. “I know what merchandise I have! Melody has just been buying new supplies without consulting me.”

Robbie raised his eyebrows and put his hands up in surrender.

It sounded to Mabel like Melody buying new supplies was evidence of her growing responsibility for the Museum, but she was glad Robbie didn’t do anything to antagonize Ford further. The old man’s mutterings, from what Mabel could pick out, indicated he was doing as Melody suggested and planning for the operation to retrieve the first Journal. But he still seemed to resent being forced to do manual labor. _Well, now you know what it’s been like for us twins, Ford._

Though she couldn’t complain. She _had_ been passed out on the couch for the past week.

Mabel tried to stay focused on her work, tried to be in the moment as she cleaned. But cleaning was so mechanical, and her mind was so flighty, that it was a wonder she lasted as long as she did. Before long, her mind started to drift. To Bill, to Pacifica, to the Cipher Wheel and what it all meant. First Pacifica, and the things she’d screamed at Mabel last night. Mabel’s brain just kept replaying the same moment over and over again: Pacifica crossing the room and pulling out the knife. That was the second time Mabel had been at knifepoint this winter, and she didn’t _ever_ want it to happen again. She wondered if, had Pacifica been able to kill her, she would’ve used a knife to do it.

Her brain caught hold of that thought and chased it around for a while. Why _hadn’t_ Pacifica been able to kill her? She wanted to, she did nothing to hide that face. But Bill had stopped her, Bill had wanted Mabel alive. _Bill_ , even after possessing Mabel.

An image of Babel’s laughing face flashed across the back of Mabel’s eyes.

She shook her head, trying to banish it. Why, though? Why had Bill specifically intervened with Pacifica’s plan? What was he planning?

A shiver ran down Mabel’s spine as it hit her.

The Cipher Wheel. She was on the Cipher Wheel. That had to be it. But. . . wouldn’t Bill _want_ the members of the Cipher Wheel dead? Weren’t they the last defense between him and freedom?

“Mabel? Maaaaabel. Earth to Mabel.”

Dipper snapped his fingers in front of her face, and Mabel jumped. The jerk was violent enough that she bumped right into Dipper, almost falling on top of him.

He caught her and helped her get her balance. “Woah, Mabes, sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. We’re just about to have lunch, and you were in one of your trances.”

His term for when she thought so hard that she lost all connection with the real world. She nodded. “R-right. Sorry. Coming.”

She followed Dipper into the kitchen, where Melody had gotten out bread and sandwich toppings. Mabel moved to make herself a sandwich, trying to look as invisible as possible.

“I’ve finished restocking,” Ford said, throwing deli meat and cheese haphazardly onto his bread. “Are you done with me, Melody?”

“A few hours of menial work, how challenging,” Melody replied.

“It was. My old bones can’t take manual labor anymore.”

Melody fixed Ford with a disbelieving stare. “Oh, sure, and once we get all three Journals back, you’ll just moan about your aches and pains instead of fixing that portal, is that what you’re saying?”

Ford stammered in outrage for a few moments before he was able to put together words. “No — that’s — I don’t — that’s actually _important_ , Melody.”

Melody shrugged, spreading peanut butter on a sandwich for Dipper. “So is maintaining your sole source of income.”

Mabel didn’t know how the housekeeper stayed so nonchalant about all this. She knew _she_ wouldn’t want to have to deal with Ford in this mood. But Melody was so calm and collected in the face of his tempest that Mabel was once again struck with a feeling of respect towards this woman. This winter break would have been _so_ much worse without her.

“Well, anyway,” Melody continued. “I’m willing to let you and the twins off for the rest of the day. Though you _should_ be running tours.”

“I used to,” Ford said defensively. “But you—”

He stopped himself. Melody raised an eyebrow at him, and Mabel figured she knew what he was going to say: _But you’re better at it._

Ford waved a dismissive hand. “I have bigger responsibilities these days. Like saving Stanley’s _life_.”

“All right,” said Melody, handing Dipper his sandwich. “Attend to those responsibilities. Just don’t make any important decisions without me, okay? Some of us are still working on making it possible to save his life in the first place.”

“Yes, and I couldn’t survive without you,” Ford said, rolling his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t help but be reminded of Wendy Valentino.

“Well, sarcastic or not, that’s probably the best ‘thanks’ I’m gonna get,” Melody said.

After a few minutes of silence, Ford finished his sandwich and stood up. “Meet me in the living room in five minutes,” he instructed the twins. Then he stalked out of the kitchen.

Mabel waited until he’d been gone for a good thirty seconds before she turned to Melody. “How do you do it?” she asked.

Melody blinked. “Do what?”

“Deal with Ford.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Melody laughed. “Oh. He does act like a petulant teenager sometimes, doesn’t he? It is my job, though. I look after him.”

“But — but how do you — I mean, doesn’t he make you feel like you want to disappear?”

Melody paused, thinking the question over. “He has that effect, yes.”

“But you don’t let it get to you,” Mabel said. “How?”

Melody shrugged. “I just try to emotionally step back and remind myself that I’m still a good person, no matter what anyone else thinks. That my worth isn’t dependent on anyone’s opinion.”

Mabel just sat there as the words washed over her. That. . . she didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’d love to talk to you kids more about this,” Melody said, “but I’d better get back to running the Museum, and I’m sure Ford is impatiently waiting for you.”

“I don’t think it’s been five minutes yet,” Dipper pointed out.

“Oh, I know.” Melody winked.

She went back to the Museum, leaving Mabel and Dipper finish their lunch. Once the twins were done, they headed out to the living room, where Ford was jotting things down on a notepad. “Oh good, I was wondering what was taking you two so long.”

Mabel and Dipper shared a look. Melody was right, then. As usual.

They sat together on the couch — Ford was standing, using his forearm to support the notebook. He faced them, reminding Mabel vaguely of a schoolteacher. “I tried to follow Melody’s advice and plan the expedition to go get the Journal, but it didn’t work. She was wrong, then. As usual. Anyway, the problem is that I don’t have enough information. Mabel, you said the Journal was in the Order library?”

She nodded. “I. . . I tried to memorize the route between Pacifica’s room and the library, but it’s a maze down there, Grunkle Ford.”

“It’ll have to do,” he said. “You’re the only one of us who’s been to the library, and a spotty memory is better than nothing.”

Mabel’s blood ran cold. Did. . . did that mean he wanted her to go _back_?

Dipper jumped to his feet. “Wait, you’re not even going to _ask_ her if she’s okay with going back down there? She just got kidnapped by Pacifica! And now you want her to go back to the same place she just escaped from?”

Ford frowned. “Well, yes. She’s our biggest hope for success at this point. I understand that it might be hard, but—”

“ _Might_ be hard?” Mabel cut in. She knew she should just let Dipper defend her; her heart was thumping with anxiety even as she spoke. But she couldn’t stop herself. The awful memories of last night were suddenly crashing over her, all at once, heedless of her attempt to hold them back all morning. “I had _nightmares_ last night, Grunkle Ford, that’s how bad it was! That’s how much I should not _ever_ go back there.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

But Mabel wasn’t done. “I’ve had nightmares ever since — ever since that day at the theater! And you haven’t even _noticed_ because you’re so obsessed with _Stanley_ that you don’t even care about your _family_!”

Ford’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he said, his voice deathly quiet, “but Stanley _is_ my family.”

“I meant your family that’s _here_. The family you can interact with! Dipper! Me! Melody — because with all the stuff she does for you, she deserves to be counted too. You’re so obsessed with getting Stanley back that you’re forgetting the _rest_ of us!”

“Considering I forgot about Stanley for _thirty years_ ,” Ford intoned, “you can handle being forgotten about for a couple days.”

“Whether or not we can handle it doesn’t make it _okay_ ,” Dipper said.

“When we started hunting for the Journals, you _said_ you didn’t want us getting hurt,” Mabel said. “Well, forgetting about us is hurting us! Making me go back to that — that — to _there_ is hurting us!”

“Are you insinuating that what you went through last night is _my_ fault?” Ford asked.

“It wasn’t your _fault_ ,” Dipper said, “but you definitely didn’t _help_. When Gideon came to tell Melody and me what happened, we had to leave right away to rescue Mabel. We didn’t have time to go tear you away from whatever you were doing that was _so important_. If you’d been in the _real_ world, you could have come, and maybe even gotten the first Journal last night! Then we wouldn’t even have to make these plans!”

“No use dwelling on what could’ve been,” Ford said.

“You also said you didn’t want to take unnecessary risks,” Mabel pointed out.

“This is a _necessary_ risk!”

“It didn’t _have_ to be if you had _cared_ enough about your own family to even _notice_ when we’re in _trouble_!”

Mabel and Ford glared at each other in silence for a good thirty seconds. _Don’t be the first one to look away, Mabel_ , she commanded herself. The steel in his blue-grey eyes was terrifying, but for once, she was too angry to care. She couldn’t drop her gaze. She _wouldn’t_.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around to kiss your _boo-boos_ ,” Ford said, not dropping his gaze either. “But have you ever thought that, just maybe, there are more important things than your own problems?”

Dipper gasped. Or maybe it was Mabel.

Tears welled up in Mabel’s eyes, and she had to look away from Ford to blink them away. They still came, though. She knew it. She’d suspected, but now she knew: Ford really didn’t care about her. Why it took this long for that to sink in, she didn’t know. Hadn’t he just earlier demanded why she hadn’t gotten his first Journal? Even after she’d gone through so much to get the second, to even _find_ the first?

“Mabel. . . ,” Dipper began.

She stood up. “Good luck getting your Journal back,” she said to Ford, “because you’re not going to have my help.”

She turned and left the living room before Ford could respond.


	7. Chapter 7

Ford watched Mabel walk up the stairs, his jaw set. How dare she — she couldn’t just — did she have any idea how _important_ this was?

“Don’t you dare go after her.”

Dipper suddenly stood between Ford and the stairs. That boy moved fast. “Who said I was going to?”

“You were three steps into it.” Dipper folded his arms. “And after what you just said, she’s going to need a _lot_ of time without you butting in to ruin everything. _Again_.”

Ford folded his arms right back. “You dare talk to your guardian that way?”

“You dare talk to my sister that way?” Dipper shot back. “She was right. You _are_ obsessive. She can see it, I can see it, Melody can see it. Stan doesn’t want this, Ford! He doesn’t want this attempt to get him back to come between you and the rest of your family!”

“ _Don’t_.” Ford lowered his voice to a dangerous pitch, but Dipper didn’t flinch. “Don’t you even _attempt_ to decide what Stan does or doesn’t want. You don’t know him.”

“I bet I’m right, though.”

 _He is_ , said a little voice in the back of Ford’s mind. _Stan wouldn’t want this._ Ford’s anger shoved the voice down. “No,” he said tightly to Dipper, “Stan wants to come back to this dimension. And he can’t do that unless we have all three Journals. One Journal left, Dipper! One more, and we know where it is, and Mabel is refusing to come help retrieve it!”

Dipper looked astonished. “You’re forgetting who even _got_ your other two Journals. Who found the third one out in the woods? Oh, right. Mabel. Who managed to convince Gideon Northwest — who, by the way, lied to us and said he _didn’t_ have one — to give up his Journal for the cause? How she did it, I’ll never know, but news flash: it was Mabel.”

“She found the first one on accident and _hid_ it from me for who knows how long,” Ford said. He was tired of the twins making Mabel out to be some kind of _saint_.

“And once you remembered Stan, she put everything she had into getting the other two back. And guess what, she found them! Not you, not me, _her_.”

“Sure, she found them, but I don’t have all of them yet. I need her to get this last one back!” She was being selfish. She’d decided that it was too hard, that she could just blow it off as if it was just some regular family outing. It _wasn’t_. It was a mission to retrieve the last thing he needed to restart the portal!

“Funny way to treat someone you need,” Dipper said.

Ford opened his mouth to retort, but his body was faster than his brain, and, too late, he realized he couldn’t actually think of anything to say. His logic cleared its throat and pointed out that Dipper was, in fact, correct, and Ford was handling this all wrong. His anger attempted to throttle it.

A look of triumph came into Dipper’s eyes. “Exactly,” he said. And he walked over to the stairs.

“I thought you said not to go after her,” Ford said in annoyance.

Dipper stopped, his hand on the banister. “I’m not going to _talk_ to her,” he said, as if this were obvious. “Not yet, anyway. I’m going to _guard_ her.”

Ford didn’t miss the subtext: _I’m going to guard her from_ you. He curled his hands into fists as he watched Dipper ascend the stairs, glaring at the boy’s retreating figure.

And then Ford was alone.

He stood there, solitary in the center of the living room. His entire body was tense, trembling a bit with anger. But he had no one to yell at, no outlet for his rage. Oh, he could always kick something. That was Stanley’s method of expressing his anger: punch the nearest object and revel in the destruction. But that had never worked for Ford; he preferred to use his quick wits to intellectually out-maneuver anyone who stood in his way.

But Ford’s wits were failing him, obviously, if he managed to succumb to two _children_.

He sighed, uncurling his fingers and running them through his hair in exasperation. With no one to rail against, his anger quieted to a simmer, and he fell back onto the couch, deflating. He put his elbows on his knees and let out a deep breath. “I’m trying, Stanley,” he said. “I’m trying to get you back.” He chuckled morosely to himself. “But I’m probably doing much worse than you would have if I was the one behind that portal.”

He should be figuring out how to get Mabel to agree to come with him to retrieve the first Journal. He should be making plans for that mission. But he couldn’t. He tried to divert his thoughts to something productive, but they refused to be redirected. All he could think was how he needed help, how he _couldn’t_ do this by himself. He’d always been independent, shunning the support of others, but for the second time in his life, he found his own efforts weren’t enough.

Last time this had happened, he’d called on Stanley for help.

Well, he couldn’t do that this time. And last time, the very act of coming to Ford’s aid had ultimately been Stan’s doom.

“I’m sorry, Stan,” he whispered. “I can only hope I’m not too late to make things right.”

~~~~~

“Mabel?”

Dipper nudged the door open carefully and peered into the twins’ room. It looked just as it had this morning, except now there was a big lump under the blankets of Mabel’s bed.

“Go away,” the lump said.

There was a chance that she _actually_ wanted him to leave, but then, she most likely was just saying that. He stepped into the room and gently — but still audibly — closed the door behind him.

Mabel said nothing. So he was right: she really did want him here.

He waited a moment before crossing the room and sitting at the foot of the bed. Mabel didn’t lift her head out of the covers, but she did shift over a little to make room for him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

The blankets moved up and down in a shrug.

Dipper took in a breath. “Ford is being a colossal jerk.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Mabel muttered.

“But he does need you, Mabel. He told me himself.”

Mabel shot up into a kneeling position, her covers falling from her shoulders. “Then he needs to _ask me_!” she burst out. “ _Nicely_!”

Dipper put his hands up. “I know,” he said. “He needs to ask. And he needs to be okay with the answer.” He moved so he was looking her in the eye. “What would your answer be?”

Her eyes slid away from his. “I — I don’t know. I know it’s important, but. . . no. It’d be no. I don’t want to go back there, Dipper,” she said pleadingly.

“I know, Mabes,” he said. As she moved to a more comfortable sitting position, he took her hand in his. “I don’t like the idea of going anywhere near Pacifica either. I thought she’d stop being a threat after her amulet was destroyed, but. . .”

“But then she went and got herself a cult,” Mabel said darkly.

“Yeah.” He gave Mabel a small smile. “But hey. If you go, I’ll go.”

“R-really?”

“Really. I’m not letting you out of my sight again. If there has to be danger, we’ll face it together.”

Mabel stared at him, her lip trembling. Then she leaned forward to hug him. “Thanks, Dip.”

He hugged her tightly back.

After a minute, they pulled away. “So it’s gonna be either both of us or neither of us. Which one?”

“I don’t know!” Mabel said, hitting her fist on the bed. “Having you along would make it better, but it would still be dangerous and traumatizing and — who even knows if I’d be able to be any help down there? Maybe the minute we step off those stairs, I’ll completely freeze up, and not be able to remember _anything_ about where the library might be. Then Ford would’ve brought me along for nothing.”

“Maybe,” Dipper said. “The chance that you could help seems to be enough for Ford though. Think about it this way: he’s going in blind. You know slightly more than he does, so even if it doesn’t work, a slim chance is better than no chance at all.”

Mabel raised her eyebrows. “The one-eyed man is king in the land of the blind, I guess,” she said with a wry smile.

Dipper had never heard that saying, but it definitely fit. He shrugged. “Yeah, exactly. And hey, doesn’t it at least feel _kinda_ cool to know something that Ford doesn’t?”

Mabel’s smile dropped. “I know a lot Ford doesn’t,” she said, eyes down. “None of it’s good.”

“Knowing how to find the first Journal isn’t good?” Dipper asked.

“The way I got that information isn’t good!”

Dipper held up his hands again. “You’re right, you’re right.”

They lapsed into silence. Dipper tried to think of the best way to point out that if she hadn’t been kidnapped, they’d still have no idea where the first Journal was. He was about to open his mouth when Mabel said, “D-Dipper. . . this is for Stan, right?”

“Right.”

“But what if. . . ?” She stopped, took a breath. “This is an awful thought, but. . . wh-what if we do all this work. . . go through all this danger. . . for _nothing_?”

The thought had crossed his mind, probably Ford’s too. Dipper had just shoved it away, because it was an unthinkable outcome. But it sounded like Mabel had been thinking about it for a long time, and that it was hard for her to finally voice out loud.

Mabel barreled on. “I-I know that’s terrible, and that we can’t think like that, and that we have to _try_ , but — but have you ever thought about how, even after we beat the odds and get the portal working again, Stan might not even _be_ there? He might be d-dead, or injured, or nowhere near the portal! Whatever universe he’s in, it’s bound to be big. What if he doesn’t even see the portal open because he’s miles away? Or he’s nearby, but there’s a _wall_ or something in the way? The chances of finding him are _tiny_!” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “Maybe Shifty was right. Maybe we will end up like him if we’re not careful.”

“I don’t know, Mabes,” Dipper said. “Our chances don’t look good, I know. But we decided we would still have to try.”

“That was _before_ all this happened. Before we nearly were drowned in the bunker. Before I got kidnapped. Before I got _possessed_.”

“But don’t you think we still have to try? Better to try and fail than to not try at all and go the rest of our lives wondering, right? If it was me on the other side of the portal—”

“S-stop,” Mabel said. “D-don’t compare it to you.”

“See? It’d be horrible. Unthinkable. And you wouldn’t rest until you did all you could to get me back.”

“ _Stop_.”

“That’s how Ford feels, Mabel,” Dipper said quietly. “He isn’t even worrying about the danger of going to get the first Journal. Because going after it his only option.”

“Okay, fine,” Mabel said. “He doesn’t have to worry about the danger. For _himself_. What about us? Shouldn’t he realize what he’s _asking_ of us?”

Dipper shrugged. “We did agree to help.”

“We _did_ , but. . . but if I’d known what was going to happen to me, I don’t think I would have.”

Dipper didn’t believe that for a second. Maybe she’d have taken longer to decide, but he didn’t think she would _refuse_. Not when the fate of their grunkle’s twin brother was on the line.

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Mabes,” he said.

She opened her mouth to protest, but got cut off. By the door squeaking quietly on its hinges.

Dipper whirled around. _Already_? What did Ford not understand about —

“I’m sorry.”

Mabel drew her knees to her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.

Ford took a hesitant step forward. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking about the danger. For any of us. I wrongfully assumed you would be willing to come, that. . . that you were obligated to come. Like Dipper said, you both agreed to help.”

“How long were you eavesdropping on us?” Dipper demanded.

“Just for a bit,” Ford replied. Then he sighed. “You agreed to help. . . but you didn’t agree to put your life on the line. It sounds like that’s what happened last night, Mabel.”

A moment of silence. Then Mabel spoke, her voice wet. “I almost died, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford looked to Dipper, a silent request to sit on the bed. Dipper scooted over — toward Mabel, in case he needed to be between them. Ford gave him an exasperated look, but didn’t ask Dipper to move. He came and sat on the bed.

“That must have been terrifying,” he said.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were red. “It was,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I knew there would be some danger, but I expected the other two Journals to be buried in the forest, like the third one was. Though I would never wish that experience on you, it is a good thing you found it down there. I didn’t even know about the Order; I would’ve kept searching elsewhere in vain.”

“It m-makes sense that it’s down there,” Mabel said. “That’s why I even thought to look for it in the first place. Fiddleford was in the Order, so when he stole the Journals, of course he would bring one to the Order facility.”

Ford’s eyes widened. “Wait — wait — wait. Fiddleford was in the Order?”

“I-I think he was,” Mabel said. “The laptop password — I didn’t figure it out, I learned it from. . . I learned it after getting possessed. A-anyway. It was Crescent. That can’t be a coincidence, right? The Order of the Crescent Eye? Using Crescent as a password?”

“We don’t know if Fiddleford stole the Journals,” Ford reminded them. “But. . . no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

He let out a haggard sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I don’t remember very much about Fiddleford. But I remember trusting him, at least at first. Maybe. . . maybe whatever happened that made me _dis_ trust him was finding out he was in the Order. But. . .” He shook his head. “That doesn’t feel right. Usually things click when something jogs the memory.” Ford moaned and rubbed his face with two palms and twelve fingers. “I hate that I’ve lost so much.”

Dipper and Mabel met eyes. Both expressions were sad, though Dipper thought Mabel’s looked pensive as well.

“Isn’t. . .” Dipper paused. “Isn’t Fiddleford being in the Order — and the first Journal being in their base — isn’t that proof that he stole the Journals?”

Ford sighed. “It’s pretty convincing. Maybe. Probably.”

“Where is Fiddleford, anyway?” Mabel wondered.

Ford gave a humorless laugh. “You have as much of an idea as I do.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence. Mabel picked at loose threads in the bedspread. Dipper wanted desperately to break this oppressive silence, to crack a joke or something, but he bit his tongue to stop himself— literally. Mabel and Ford had to do this at their own pace.

“You can see how frustrating this is for me,” Ford finally said. “Not having my memories, not having my Journals — not even knowing if Stan will be there behind the portal.”

Mabel paled. “Y-you heard that?”

“I think they’re valid concerns,” Ford said with a nod. “But we still have to move forward. I let my frustrations out on you, Mabel, and I should not have done that. Still, you being unwilling to help retrieve the Journal—”

Dipper cut him off with a warning glare.

Ford took a calming breath. “All right. Mabel, I can’t do this without you. Or, I could try, but it would be foolish. I need you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t acting accordingly. Would you. . . please, would you reconsider?”

Mabel hesitated. Dipper could see her shoulders tense up, see her attempt to look smaller. “I. . . I don’t know. Grunkle Ford. . .” She shrank back even more, like what she was about to say terrified her. She seemed determined to say it anyway, though. Dipper had been in that situation before, knew how scary it was — and Mabel thought she wasn’t brave?

Mabel swallowed. “Grunkle Ford, do you care about me?”

Ford’s eyes widened for a split second before his face softened with empathy. Dipper moved out of the way so Ford could get to Mabel; he could anticipate what was coming. And if it didn’t come, he would make it come.

“Of course I do,” Ford said. “I. . .” He looked to Dipper, who nodded, tilting his head towards Mabel. _Give her a hug, Ford._

So Ford did. It was awkward, yes — but he did it. He leaned forward and put his arms around Mabel. “I care about you,” he said, holding her close. “And I’m sorry for making you doubt it.”

Mabel relaxed into his arms. “I’m scared, Grunkle Ford,” she whispered.

“I know.” He rocked her gently back and forth. “I know.”

With Mabel in Ford’s arms, they rocked together, eyes closed. Dipper had to hold back a big smile. He knew Ford was decades older than he was, knew his great uncle was the adult here, but he still felt proud of him. He’d been worried Ford would never be able to get past his anger long enough to make up with Mabel. But he had.

Dipper let the smile break out on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Mabel still didn’t know if she could handle going back to the Order headquarters.

Ford told her it was okay, that she should wait until tomorrow to decide. Mabel appreciated that, and knew she needed that time — but it was also just more time to agonize over it all. She sort of wished the decision was just over with so she didn’t have to stress about it anymore.

The three Pines stayed up in the attic for a long while. Mabel felt safe in Ford’s arms. Maybe. . . maybe it would be okay, since he would be there. Dipper, too. They could protect her, right?

After the Museum closed, Melody came up and stuck her head in. “Oh, _there_ you all are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you, and I thought maybe you’d gone off to get the Journal without even telling me!”

“Nope, just snuggling,” Dipper said happily. He’d come and wormed his way into the embrace as well, and he and Mabel were comfortably smushed up next to each other.

Melody looked them over like a proud mother. “How sweet,” she said. Usually Mabel heard that phrase used solely in sarcasm, but from Melody, it sounded authentic. “I’m going to go get dinner ready, so it’ll probably be about twenty, thirty minutes. Do you want me to come up and get you?”

“Maybe,” Ford said. “I think we’ll be down, though.”

Mabel had honestly forgotten about dinner. She was ready to just fall asleep in Ford’s arms. But once Melody brought it up, she realized she was pretty hungry.

Eventually, Ford disentangled himself from the twins, and they set off downstairs to have dinner. Melody presented them with a wonderful soup she’d put in a crockpot that morning, and it smelled delectable.

“So what did y’all plan?” Melody asked after they started eating.

“Not much,” Ford said. “We got. . . sidetracked.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “That’s an understatement. Ford was being a jerk. But it’s okay, we’re good now.”

Ford pursed his lips, though Mabel thought she saw him suppress a smile. “Yes, thank you, Dipper. Anyway,” he said, preventing any further questions from Melody, “we’ve tentatively decided on who’s going, at least.”

“That was what Ford was being a jerk over,” Dipper added helpfully.

Ford pressed on. “I’m definitely going,” he said, “and Mabel is deciding. And Dipper. . .” He frowned. “Dipper, are you coming whether or not Mabel is?”

“Yeah,” Dipper said. “I don’t like the idea of being in Pacifica’s home base either, but somebody’s gotta watch out for you.”

Ford rolled his eyes, but this time let his smile through. “Well, thank you,” he said. He sipped a spoonful of soup and then looked to Melody. “I suppose we’ve been assuming you wouldn’t be a part of the team. Hopefully that’s all right.”

“Oh, trust me,” she said, “I have no problems being left out of this one. I’ll be a mess of anxiety while you’re gone, but. . . well, I got in the way with Mabel’s rescue more than I helped.”

“What?” Dipper said. “No you didn’t!”

Melody gave him a knowing smile. “I appreciate your loyalty,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure I did.”

“I mean,” Mabel said quietly. They all looked to her. Oh. She hadn’t meant to draw _everyone’s_ attention. “Well, if I did go, and if something happened to us, at least Melody would still be here to run the Museum and organize a rescue, right?”

“If I had to organize a rescue, I would not be running the Museum,” Melody said.

“Oh, so there _are_ more important things?” Ford asked in mock surprise.

Melody gave him a disapproving look. “Let’s just not think about that possibility, all right?”

Mabel had to think about it, though. She had to think about every possibility to make an informed decision. Though the decision would probably end up being made based entirely on her emotions, she thought wryly.

Throughout the night — it took hours for her to get to sleep, even though her body was tired — she went through it all in her head. Her emotions were saying no, no, don’t do this, get away, stay _away_ — but it seemed like she couldn’t make the decision just based on her emotions, because every time she thought, _This isn’t worth it; I’m staying home_ , her brain jumped in with reasons for her to go. _Ford needs you_. Stan _needs you_. _Are you really going to condemn a man to never seeing his brother again just because you’re too scared to do hard things?_

Mabel fell asleep with these thoughts in her head and woke up with them raring to go. It took only sitting up before everything rushed back, before the two sides of her mind started screaming at her to go or to not go.

“Morning Mabes!”

She mustered a smile for Dipper. Her observant brother saw past it, though. “Woke up thinking, huh?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“I actually did too,” he said. “But I’ll wait until we’re with Ford to bring it up.”

Ford wasn’t at breakfast, though, so the twins ate with Melody and then waved her off as she went to open the Mystery Museum. Ford came out just as she left. “Any breakfast left for me?”

“Morning, Ford!” Dipper said. “Yep, there’s food left. You wake up late?”

Ford spread jam on a piece of toast. “No, I was gathering weapons. I’m going to sort through them to decide which ones we should take with us.”

“Ooh, can I help?”

Ford shot Dipper an amused smile. “Sure.” He came over to sit at the table.

“So Ford,” Dipper said as he sat down, “I just realized something. To get into the Order headquarters, you gotta have a password.”

Ford grimaced. “I was worried about something like that. How did you get past it the other night?”

“Gideon,” Dipper said. “So I was thinking, why not just get him to help? He knows his way around, right? And if anybody would go to that library just for fun, it’s him. If we get Gideon, he can get us into the base, and Mabel won’t even need to come!”

Dipper gave a winning smile to Mabel, but she didn’t return it. “N-no,” she said. “Gideon. . . he’s already in trouble for rescuing me. I don’t want to make anything worse for him. It’s. . . it’s better if I just go.”

Even as she said the words, Mabel wanted to take them back. No — no, she didn’t want to take them back. Gideon had already done so much for her. Doing this for him — it was the least she could do for him. And for Stan. Right?

“Does that mean you’re coming?” Ford asked.

“Mabes, are you sure?” Dipper added.

“No,” she said. “No, I’m not sure. But. . .” She took a deep breath. “When I first got down to Order headquarters, I thought. . . I thought I was going to die. Pacifica _told_ me she was going to do it. I was freaking out, my thoughts were going all over the place, but I remember — I remember thinking. . . that if I died, I wanted Ford to keep working on getting Stan back. That he didn’t deserve to be abandoned.”

She looked up at Ford. He was staring at her, overcome with emotion. There were no tears on his face, but it looked like they might show up at any moment.

“He doesn’t,” he whispered. “I. . . you can’t imagine how much that means to me, Mabel, that you thought of him, even when faced with the prospect of dying.” He smiled. “I, for one, am very glad that you’re still here.”

Mabel smiled back at him, though she hoped they would get off this topic quickly. Thinking about how close she’d come to. . . to _not_ being here made her all sorts of uncomfortable.

“I’m probably going to change my mind,” she admitted, “and want to back out of it. Multiple times. Probably even while we’re down there. But I want to help. I want to get Stanley back.”

“You won’t be alone, Mabes,” Dipper said. “Ford and I will be there to keep you safe.”

“I know,” she said. “Thanks, Dip.” She turned to Ford. “I don’t really want to help with the weapons, though.”

“That’s fine,” Ford said. “Dipper and I will be back in the lab, but you can go help Robbie out in the gift shop if you get lonely.”

“Just — no real guns,” Mabel said.

“No real guns,” Ford agreed. “We will be taking stun guns, though. I refuse to be caught with no defenses.”

Ford finished his toast, and he and Dipper left to go sort through Ford’s cache of weapons. How many weapons did he even _have_ , anyway? Probably a lot, if gathering them all made him late for breakfast. The thought of being around so many things that could hurt her made Mabel shudder. She had no desire to go pick through a pile of pointy objects.

She got bored quickly, though, sitting alone in the kitchen. Her brain kept trying to talk her out of the decision she’d just made — the decision to go back for the Journal. Eventually, she wandered over to the gift shop, In hopes talking to Robbie would help her think about something else.

“Hey, Mabel-kid!” Robbie called when he saw her. “How’s it hanging?”

Mabel ambled over to the checkout counter, weaving around the occasional tourist. “Hi Robbie,” she said. “I’m doing okay. How about you?”

Normally, Mabel hated this type of conversation. _Hi, how are you? Oh, I’m great, how are you? I’m good._ It was like people used “how are you” as a synonym for “hello,” and nobody _actually_ wanted to know how you were doing. The few times Mabel had answered that question honestly, she’d gotten these uncomfortable stares. Mabel hated the way the question was just thrown out time and again, like it didn’t mean anything, so she did her best to avoid it altogether.

Right now, though? Right now, she just wanted a normal conversation.

“I’m doing good, I’m doing good,” Robbie said. A tourist came over, and Robbie rang them up. “Thanks for stopping by the Mystery Museum!” he called after them as they left. He turned back to Mabel. “What brings you out here?”

Mabel shrugged. “Ford and Dipper are doing guy stuff.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Like blowing up hot dogs in the microwave?”

“What?” Mabel involuntarily let out an obnoxious giggle. Wow. She hadn’t had to deal with her crush making things awkward for a while. It actually felt kind of nice, for some weird reason.

“Oh yeah, Thompson and I used to do that all the time. It was pretty entertaining. But I’m guessing they’re not doing that.”

“Nope, not that,” Mabel said. She couldn’t tell Robbie what they were actually doing, of course. “Anyway, just thought I’d come out here and see what was going on in the gift shop.”

“Well, you’re always welcome,” Robbie said.

“Thanks.” Mabel pulled a stool over and perched atop it. “Slow today?” she asked, glancing around the gift shop. It was fairly empty.

Robbie shrugged. “’Bout normal. Normal and boring.” He sighed. “Some days, I just want to bring my speakers and play something upbeat and intense instead of this ‘easy listening’ nonsense.” He gestured up at the ceiling, from which faint elevator music came wafting down.

Mabel gave another awkward laugh. “Yeah.” She kinda liked the music Melody played in the gift shop, but no need to tell Robbie that. “Um. . . did you get the money to the theater okay?”

“Yep,” Robbie said. The Pines had given him the money from Gideon yesterday so he could pay the theater for the damages the twins had caused when. . . when Mabel was possessed. Mabel was glad to get that out of the way. Even though they had much more pressing things to worry about, it was relieving to have on less thing on her plate to stress over.

After that, she sat on her stool and watched Robbie do his job. They chatted idly about things that didn’t matter. Mabel liked it; it distracted her from obsessing over the Order.

It didn’t work for long, though. During a story Robbie was telling about adventures with his friends, Mabel’s brain suddenly woke up, wondering why she’d stopped thinking about the Order and the Journal and the mission. She tried to stay focused on the story, she really did — it was about some irate teachers chasing Wendy after she graffitied on the side of the school — but other thoughts kept sneaking their way into her attention. Was she really going to do this? What were Ford and Dipper finding back in the lab? If getting Gideon’s help wasn’t an option, how were they going to get the passcode?

“Mabel-kid?”

She snapped back into reality. “S-sorry, Robbie,” she said.

“No prob. So anyway, there I was, holding Wendy’s spray paint cans, right? And the crazy teacher dude thought they were _mine_. . .”

Mabel firmly told herself to stop thinking about anything that wasn’t Robbie’s story.

“. . . But I wasn’t going to give Wendy up, so I played the part and just ran for it. Got pretty far, too, but the guy was still after me. Tried to lose him by ducking into the town library, but. . . Mabel?”

She swallowed. “Y-yeah?”

“You just went all pale,” Robbie said. “You doing okay?”

No, she wasn’t. He’d just mentioned the town library. Now Mabel _really_ wouldn’t be able to keep her thoughts away from the Order.

A customer came up, and Robbie turned to check them out. Mabel watched him as a horrifying thought appeared out of nowhere and wormed its way into her head. Robbie. . . he didn’t know about the Order, right? He wasn’t. . . a _member_?

No. No, he couldn’t be, Mabel told herself. Robbie? Worship. . . _him_? Not a chance. The fact that he brought up the town library didn’t mean anything. It was just a library. Robbie didn’t know it was the entrance to the Order.

Right?

The customer left. Mabel glanced around the gift shop. There were only two tourists, and they were on the opposite end of the room. If she was going to ask him, it’d have to be now.

“You good, Mabel-kid?”

But did she _want_ to ask him? What if the answer was yes? What if he tried to hurt her? _Trust no one._ But Robbie. . .

She’d been in Robbie’s head. She would’ve seen if he was involved in the Order. She didn’t know about it back then, but a bunch of creepy dudes in purple robes would’ve stuck with her, right?

 _Ask him. Just ask him. It’ll be fine. Just pretend the Order is some band you just found if he doesn’t know._ And he wouldn’t know. He _couldn’t_ know.

“Y-yeah,” she forced out. “I’m good. Um, Robbie. . .” Was she really going to do this? It was risky. Stupid, even. But she had to know. She had to be _sure_ he was innocent. “Robbie, have you ever heard of the Order?”

Robbie froze. His eyes widened, and he stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he groaned and put a hand to his face.

“Not you too,” he moaned.

“Wh-what?” Mabel said. No. No, this couldn’t be happening — should she run? But he didn’t seem angry, he seemed. . . sad.

Robbie shot the tourists a furtive glance. “They got you too?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“G-got me?”

“You know, kidnapped you, tried to wipe your memory. And it didn’t work?”

Mabel gave him a wary look. “Th-they kidnapped me, yeah. But. . . well, they were going to do something worse than wipe my memory. So wait, you know about the Order? But you’re not a member?”

Robbie looked at her like she was crazy. “Me? A member? In your _dreams_. My parents are, though. Unfortunately. They’re the ones who tried to get my memory wiped. Surprise, I’m immune to Gideon Northwest’s dumb amulet! _That_ made their day,” he finished sarcastically.

“H-how long ago was that?” Mabel asked.

He shrugged. “Six months ago, a year, something like that. I try not to think about it.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said with a derisive laugh. “I’ve been trying not to think about it all day.”

“Oh, so _that’s_ why bringing up the town library made you freeze up. Sorry about that.”

“N-no, it’s fine. You didn’t know.”

They had to stop talking about the Order, since the tourists moved closer to the cash register. It seemed to be a mother and her son. Robbie chatted with them as they looked through the bowl of free stickers that they kept by the cash register, but Mabel was silent. Watching the mother and her son only made her think of Robbie, and how his mom was in the Order. How awful would that be! She thought of her own mother, and of Melody, and tried to imagine them living secret double lives. She couldn’t.

Wait. But if Robbie’s parents were in the Order. . . they would know the passcode!

The tourists left after taking a couple free stickers and not actually buying anything. Mabel could hear Melody’s voice in the distance, so the current tour was close. They only had a few minutes before being swarmed with more customers. “Robbie,” she said quickly, “you said your parents are in the Order?”

He grimaced. “Yeah. They really believe in it, for some insane reason. _I_ don’t think the supernatural needs to be kept a secret! Maybe from the rest of the world, sure, but the locals here could handle it just fine. I mean, you’ve handled it fine so far, and you’re not a local.”

“O-oh. Um, it doesn’t feel like I have,” she said, blushing. “But thanks. So, um. . . the Order has something we need, and we’re trying to go get it, but. . . we don’t have the passcode to get into headquarters. D-do you know it, by any chance?”

Robbie’s eyes widened. “Woah, no wonder you’ve been so distracted. You’re going there by _choice_?”

“I don’t want to,” Mabel said quietly. “But we have to.”

“I can’t think of why you’d need to do that, but that’s your business. No, I don’t know the passcode, sorry. My parents do, but I don’t think I could get it out of them.”

“Oh,” Mabel said. Well, it was a long shot, anyway.

Melody came in, leading a group of tourists. “And here, you have the elusive gift shop,” she said in a mystical voice.

The tour group laughed.

Melody reverted to her normal voice. “This concludes our tour, folks! Thanks for stopping by the Mystery Museum, and feel free to look around, see if something catches your eye!”

She winked at Mabel before heading back out.

Robbie and Mabel were kept busy with tourists for the next half hour or so — well, Robbie was. Mabel just sat on her stool and watched. And thought.

She was relieved that Robbie wasn’t an Order member. Part of her knew it all along, but a different part of her actually doubted him for a moment there. Still, she felt sorry for him that he had to know about it at all. He said that Gideon’s amulet hadn’t worked on him, that he was immune to mind-wiping. Immune. . .

Was Robbie on the Cipher Wheel?

The ghost had just said being on the Wheel kept them safe from the Order, but he didn't get into specifics. Being immune to the amulet would make sense. If Robbie was on it. . . which symbol was he? She was running through the unknown symbols in her head, trying to figure out which one would fit him, when Robbie spoke up.

“You know. . . ,” he said, and Mabel realized there was no one in earshot. “Mom and Dad are always trying to recruit me, since they can’t erase my memory. Maybe I could pretend like I’m actually interested and ask them to take me on a tour of the base. Then I could memorize the passcode when they type it in.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “R-really?” she asked. “You’d do that?”

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t be any danger to me, except having to deal with my folks getting overexcited about the possibility of me joining their crazy club. And that’s not danger, that’s just annoying. I’m assuming this mission is important?”

“Very!” Mabel nodded rapidly.

“Then sure, I can help out.”

“Th-that’s great!” Mabel hopped off her stool. “I’ll go tell Grunkle Ford! Thanks, Robbie!”

“It’s no problem,” Robbie said. “But hey, tell Mr. Pines I want to know what you guys are stealing and what you’re using it for. I’m curious now.”

“Trust me, they stole it from _us_ ,” Mabel said. “But sure, I can do that. Thanks, Robbie!”

And she dashed out of the gift shop.

On the way back to the lab, she realized she’d said “Thanks, Robbie” twice. She mentally kicked herself for about half a minute before deciding it wasn’t a big deal. It gave the Robconscious something to laugh about, she was sure.

She burst into the lab. “Great news!” she called.

Ford and Dipper looked up from the alarming piles of weaponry that surrounded them. “What is it?” Dipper asked.

Mabel closed the door behind her and made her way across the lab, stopping before she got within five feet of the nearest weapons pile. “So you might get mad at me for asking, Ford — don’t worry, there’s a part of me that can’t believe I did. But I asked, and Robbie knows about the Order — he’s not in it!” she added when looks of shock crossed Dipper and Ford’s faces. “He knows about it because Gideon’s amulet can’t mind-wipe him for some reason — I think maybe he’s on the Cipher Wheel? Anyway, his parents are in the Order. And he says he can get the passcode for us if he just asks his parents for a tour, which they’d be happy to give, from what he said. So there’s that problem solved!”

Ford blinked at Mabel’s torrent of words. He took a minute to process it all, then said, “That’s wonderful, Mabel, good job. Though that could’ve turned out very badly if he _was_ in the Order.”

“Yeah, but Robbie would never be in the Order,” Dipper said.

“Well, it was still risky. But it paid off, for the which I’m glad. When he does get the passcode to us, we should go for the Journal that night, in case it changes. Sound like a plan?”

Mabel didn’t like that plan — she’d have barely any time to emotionally prepare. But it made sense. “S-sure,” she said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dipper agreed. “Do you wanna join us, Mabel?”

Mabel glanced warily at the piles of weapons. “Um. . . I’m good over here.”

Dipper shrugged. “Okay.” He reached his hands into the nearest weapons pile — Mabel winced — and rummaged through it for a bit. “Ooh!”

He pulled out a pair of brass knuckles and slipped them on. “Oh, sweet, look at these babies!” He grinned up at Ford. “Do I look like a mob boss?”

Ford’s eyes widened. He stared down at the knuckles, his face growing pale.

Dipper frowned. “What’s wrong, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford took a shaky breath. “N-nothing. Can I have those?”

It wasn’t _nothing_. Ford would never get this upset over _nothing_. Mabel watched the exchange in despair. _Grunkle Ford. . . don’t you know by now that you can trust us?_

Dipper took off the knuckles and handed them over. “Okay,” he said slowly. “What’s the big deal? They’re just brass knuckles, right?”

Ford held them gently in his hands and rubbed a finger over the smooth, gold-colored metal. “No,” he said softly. “They’re not just brass knuckles. Well, they are, but. . . these were Stanley’s.”

The twins gaped at him.

“Really?” Mabel whispered.

When Ford answered, he wasn’t looking at Mabel. He was looking at the brass knuckles. “Yes. He used to wear them when we went monster hunting. He was formidable, when he wanted to be.”

“We should take them!” Dipper blurted. Mabel shot him a look, but he kept going. “I mean, don’t you think he would like the idea of us using his own weapon to save him?”

Ford considered this. “I. . . I don’t know. He probably would. But I don’t want to lose them.”

“If we lose them, we can tell him we lost them in the epic quest to save his life,” Dipper said confidently.

Mabel glanced at the floor. Dipper was forgetting a possibility: that they lost them and then failed to save Stanley. If that happened, they wouldn’t even have the brass knuckles to remember him by.

Ford appeared to be thinking along the same lines. He bit his lip, looking between Dipper’s encouraging face and the brass knuckles. Finally, he sighed and smiled up at the twins.

“Okay,” he said, “let’s take them. With Mabel getting us a way to get inside the Order base, I’m feeling good about our chances."

He slipped the brass knuckles on. They only fit on five of his fingers, of course; the sixth dangled on the outside. “It’ll feel good to fight for Stan with these. You’re right, Dipper. He would approve.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next few days were spent preparing to go retrieve the first Journal. While Melody and Robbie ran the Mystery Museum, Ford and the twins holed up in the lab, practicing with their weapons and making plans. Mostly, Ford had the twins practice accuracy with the stun guns — and the grappling hook. Mabel insisted Dipper work with the grappling hook too, since he’d had it during the rescue. He was fine with that — he liked the feeling of the grappling hook kicking against him as he fired — but he wished Mabel was more confident with it.

Well, at least she wasn’t giving it to Dipper entirely.

Ford set up some targets for them to practice on across the lab. They weren’t regular targets, like hunters would use for deer or elk. These targets were shaped like monsters, mythical creatures, and — to Mabel’s horror — people.

“Well, we _are_ going to be using these stun guns on people,” Ford pointed out. “Plus, I made these targets back when Stan, Fidds, and I were monster hunting, and some of the creatures we came up against were humanoid.”

Along with the stun guns, Ford and Dipper found some other gadgets to induce unconsciousness. One of them was a little patch that sent some type of anesthesia seeping down through the skin. “We used to use those when we were in too close of a range to use the stun guns. Rare, but very helpful if something nasty has you in its clutches. Careful, kids — don’t accidentally put them on yourselves.”

As soon as Ford said that, Mabel wanted to stay far away from the knockout patches. Dipper, however, liked the idea.

“There’s a risk, Mabes, but you have to unwrap them before you can use them, so you’ll be fine. If some Order member has you captive, you’ll want one of these.”

“What if I can’t unwrap it?” Mabel asked. “What if I can’t even get it out of my pocket?”

“Okay, sure,” Dipper said. “But what if you _can_?”

So Mabel took some. She kept them at arm’s length, but she took them. Dipper was more relieved than he wanted to admit. Anything that helped keep Mabel safe was a good thing.

Then one morning, just as the twins were about to follow Ford back to the lab, Robbie came bursting through the _Employees Only_ door.

“I got it,” he said. “I got the passcode.”

“Excellent!” Ford said. “What is it?”

Robbie stepped into the living room, the door closing behind him. “Five two eight four nine one.”

Ford ducked back into the kitchen and returned with a pen. Quickly, he scrawled the numbers on his hand.

“Woah,” Dipper said, “Mom always gets mad at me for doing that. You can do things like that when you’re an adult?”

“You can do all sorts of things when you’re an adult,” Ford replied. “Including infiltrate a cult for your Journal. Good work, Robbie.”

“No problem, Mr. Pines. My parents now think I’m actually _interested_ in their dumb group, but I can deal.” Robbie frowned. “Um. . . when you go down there. . . and if they’re down there. . . don’t hurt them, okay?”

Ford put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’re not planning on hurting anyone.”

“Yeah,” Dipper said, “we have stun guns. They’re pretty cool.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “Do those have any side effects?”

“They were developed thirty years ago by my assistant, so I don’t know much about their infrastructure. But I don’t believe they do, no. But maybe try to keep your parents home tonight.”

Robbie nodded. “Okay. I’ll try. Hey, good luck, guys. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks, Robbie!” Dipper said. He didn’t feel like that was enough to express grateful he was, but it had to do.

“You’re welcome,” Robbie said. “Well, I better get out to work the cash register. Hey, Mr. Pines, if you’re feeling generous after today, now might be a great time for a raise.”

And with a wink, he went back out to the gift shop.

Dipper turned to Mabel with a grin. “What would we do without Robbie, huh?”

But Mabel didn’t smile back. Her face was full of anxiety. “Mabes?” Dipper asked. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re going tonight,” she said numbly.

“Yes,” Ford said. “The password may change daily, and we can’t take that chance. Are you going to be okay, Mabel?”

She shook her head to clear it. “Y-yeah, I think so. Well, no, but. . . I’ll make it. I think.”

Dipper gave her a hug. “You’ll make it,” he promised. “We’ll all make it.”

She hugged him back. Didn’t say anything, just hugged him.

Dipper and Mabel separated after a while, and Ford started talking about when they should go. He said the best time would be about eleven, since the passcode would most likely change at midnight, if it was going to change at all. Dipper and Mabel agreed, though Mabel said they should probably try to get a nap in first so they weren’t dead on their feet. “I probably won’t be able to sleep, though,” she muttered.

With that decided, they spent the rest of the day planning and practicing with the guns. So really, not much different from the other days, except now they knew when they’d be going down to the Order: tonight. They were going tonight.

Tonight, they’d retrieve the first Journal.

~~~~~

First obstacle: getting in.

Dipper, Mabel, and Ford left the Mystery Museum at about 10:45. They were laden with supplies: stun guns and knockout patches for each of them, the grappling hook in Mabel’s trembling hand, and Stan’s brass knuckles on Ford’s hands. Ford had a handy-dandy holster for his stun gun, but there weren’t any extras for the twins, so Mabel put her stun gun and knockout patches in her backpack, and Dipper held his stun gun in his hands, with the knockout patches in his pocket.

Their walk down the street towards the library was silent and subdued. Ford didn’t want to alert anyone to their presence, so he and Mabel kept quiet. Dipper tried to keep quiet, too, but he wished he could say _something_ to alleviate the tension.

Besides the cloud of anxiety that surrounded them, the trip was uneventful. A car passed by at one point, its headlights glaring, and Mabel grabbed on to Dipper’s wrist, but it was just a random car. They made it to the library unscathed. Dipper went to go check for guards, as Gideon had when they’d rescued Mabel, but no one was out there. Must’ve been a one-time thing.

He waved Ford and Mabel back, and Ford moved to type in the passcode. As he typed it in, Dipper and Mabel held their breath. Would it work? Or had it already changed?

The door opened.

Dipper let out a silent sigh of relief, and Mabel shot him a glance. Probably not as silent as he thought, then. But there was nobody around, so they were probably fine.

The Pines started down the stairs.

Dipper kept his stun gun at the ready. He didn’t know how many Order members were down here tonight, but he was pretty sure they’d run into at least one patrol. They didn’t even entirely know where they were going.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and became enclosed in the rough stone halls of the underground complex. Dipper took a quick breath as its oppressive atmosphere settled on his shoulders. He let go of the stun gun with one hand, using it to search out Mabel’s and grip it tightly. Last time he’d been down here, he’d been in a panic about her safety. But it was okay. She was here now. It’d all be okay.

 _Yeah_ , said the cynical part of his brain, _now you’re_ all _in danger. But hey, you’re in danger together!_

Dipper shoved that voice to the back of his mind. They’d be _fine_.

As they reached the first intersection, Ford signaled for the twins to stay put before pulling out his own stun gun and going around the corner. Dipper heard two shots, two surprised yells, and two _thumps_ as two bodies fell to the floor.

“Think anyone heard that?” Mabel whispered anxiously.

“I don’t know,” Dipper said. “The stun guns aren’t very loud, but it’s echoey down here.”

“We have to assume it was audible,” Ford said. He beckoned the twins forward. “Time is of the essence. Mabel, do you know which way we should go?”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “Um. . . well, when we escaped last time, we came from that way.” She pointed, looking to Dipper for confirmation. He nodded. “But that’s the way to Pacifica’s room, and that’s the last place we want to be tonight. I don’t know the way to the library from here.”

“Can you remember a general direction?” Ford asked.

Mabel closed her eyes to think. After a moment, she opened them and pointed down another hall, the one furthest to the right. “That way. I think?”

“Good enough,” Ford said. He frowned down at the unconscious Order members. “We need to keep moving, but if we can stow them somewhere out of the way, there will hopefully be more time before they realize they’ve been infiltrated. The more time before we’re discovered, the better.”

The left hall had a couple of doors embedded in the stone walls. Dipper ran to go check them, keeping his stun gun at his side. The first door was locked, but the second opened to a small room with nothing but a chair and a small bureau. Dipper poked his head out and nodded to Ford.

Ford took the first Order member by the shoulders, Mabel grabbing her feet. Together, they lifted the unconscious woman and moved toward the room. Dipper ran back out and grabbed the other Order member by his wrists and started dragging him after Mabel and Ford. A woman and a man. Dipper hoped these two weren’t the Corduroys. They didn’t bear resemblance to Robbie, though, so it was probably fine.

 _They’re still people, though,_ Dipper thought as they closed the door on the two cultists.

He shook his head. They were people, yes, which was why the Pines weren’t hurting them. But they were doing caught up in a terrible organization, one helping _Bill Cipher_. They deserved to be knocked unconscious if it meant working against Bill.

Dipper, Mabel, and Ford jogged down the hall in the direction Mabel decided, trying to keep their footsteps as quiet as possible, but also trying to be fast. They slowed down at each intersection to give Mabel time to think before pointing where they should go. Dipper also tried to figure it out based on what he’d seen, but he’d only been between the entrance and Pacifica’s room. So his memory would only be helpful for figuring out where _not_ to go.

At their seventh-or-so intersection, Mabel looked up at Ford, distress evident on her face. “Grunkle Ford, I — I don’t actually know where we’re going. We could be headed in completely the wrong way.”

Ford put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Mabel. If all else fails, we can go with the maze technique of always going right. Do you want to try that?”

“Um. . .” Mabel glanced to Dipper, who gave her a thumbs-up. “N-no, I think we can keep going. O-oh — we’re looking for a staircase. The library is at the bottom of a staircase.”

“Even _deeper_ underground?” Dipper asked. How overdramatic could one place get?

“Y-yeah, I guess.” She took a deep breath, then appraised their two options: forward or right. “Okay, I think forward.”

Well, at least they had _something_ to look for: a staircase. Dipper was glad there was some kind of sign to let them know they were close, because everything down here looked the same. Same walls, same ceilings, same lantern brackets. He was impressed that Mabel even had the confidence to make _guesses_ about where to go down in this labyrinth.

They kept walking. Honestly, even though they were technically in a dangerous situation, Dipper was starting to get bored. It was like that time he and Mabel had to tour the high school and got hopelessly lost. Except this place wasn’t all shiny linoleum floors and bright colors, it was all rough stone and ominous lighting. Dipper didn’t actually know which was worse.

“ _Hey_!”

Dipper jumped and spun around, fumbling with his stun gun. Ford was faster, though. He shot at one of the Order members — they were always in pairs, was that just a thing for them? — and took aim at the other. Dipper instinctively aimed at the same spot, and he shot the stun gun at the remaining Order member at the same time Ford did. The Order member fell to the ground as he got hit in the chest with two stunning shots.

Whoops.

Dipper sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Do you think we hurt him?”

“I don’t think so,” Ford said. “Maybe a headache when he wakes up. At any rate, there shouldn’t be any lasting effects. Do you see a place to hide them?”

“N-no,” Mabel said.

Dipper scanned the hall. “Not from here. I don’t know if dragging them all the way to one would be worth it.”

Ford pursed his lips. “Well, hopefully we’re close to the library, then. Let’s go.”

They kept going, with Mabel taking longer and longer to make decisions about where they should head next. A few intersections later, Ford stopped suddenly.

“Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry. I just had an idea. Next time we find a patrol, don’t knock either of them out. I want to try something.”

Dipper wasn’t sure what Ford was planning, but he hoped it would work. He just had to trust Ford’s judgment.

Ford checked around the next few corners, gesturing for the twins to be quiet, apparently looking for more patrols. The first few times were fruitless, but after a while, the chance to test his plan came. Dipper and Mabel watched from a few feet away as Ford disappeared around the corner. There was a grunt, then a surprised yell. Dipper edged a little closer to overhear them.

Ford’s quiet voice floated around the corner. “I’m sure you know what’s pressing against your back. If you scream or try anything, I’ll shoot. I hit your buddy there with a knockout patch, but there’s much worse waiting for you. So don’t say anything or try to harm me or my partners, and it’ll all be fine. Kids, go ahead and come out.”

Dipper stepped around the corner, and his heart sank. It was Tyler. Dipper had actually become friends with him over the times he saw him at the Mystery Museum, and finding out he was an Order member. . . well, Dipper had had more pressing things to worry about the night of Mabel’s rescue. He’d mostly managed to put that out of his mind. But now, seeing the man again. . .

“Now listen closely,” Ford said. “We’re trying to find the library. I want you to lead us there. Not by talking, just by pointing. If you lead us in the wrong direction, I’ll shoot, and then shoot anyone else in my way. Including Pacifica.”

Tyler gulped. He met Dipper’s eyes, and Dipper looked away, heart hammering in his chest. They were doing this for good reason. Tyler was doing bad things. For all Dipper knew, the man he’d gotten to know was a complete ruse.

“Okay. Now point us to the library.”

Tyler pointed.

Dipper and Mabel walked a foot or so behind Ford and Tyler. Mabel’s face was drawn and pale. She tapped Dipper’s shoulder. “Um. . . Ford didn’t actually bring a real gun, right?” she whispered in his ear.

Dipper looked nervously at Tyler. If he heard them talking and realized he wasn’t in danger of dying. . . but Mabel needed reassuring. Dipper hung back a little to lessen the chance of being overheard. “No,” he whispered back. “He’s bluffing.”

Mabel sighed in relief, and the twins caught up to the grim procession.  

There was still a good chance that Tyler was leading them to their doom. Dipper wasn’t sure how smart it was trusting him with directions, even if he thought he was in danger of dying. But Ford called over his shoulder, “Mabel, if it feels like he’s taking us the wrong way, tell me, all right?”

Mabel nodded. They walked for a while, and Mabel didn’t say anything, so either Tyler was leading them the right way or Mabel’s memories were unreliable.

Wait. If they ran into another Order patrol, and Dipper and Mabel shot them with the stun guns. . . wouldn’t Tyler call Ford’s bluff?

Evidently, Ford was thinking along the same lines. “How many patrols are out tonight?” he asked Tyler in a low voice.

Tyler didn’t answer.

Ford jabbed the gun into Tyler’s back. “How many patrols?”

“Y-you—” Tyler swallowed. “You said I couldn’t talk.”

Dipper’s heart beat a tattoo against his ribcage. He was scared. He wasn’t evil, he was. . . he was _scared_. How could they be threatening physical harm to someone so afraid?

 _He’s doing bad things, even if he doesn’t_ know _he’s doing bad things._ Dipper had to remember that. But it still felt. . . brutal.

“You may speak to answer my questions,” Ford said, “but only if you do so at this same volume. How many patrols are out tonight?”

“I-I-I don’t know. I just sh-showed up. I saw maybe, I-I don’t know, twenty other people? Thirty?”

Ford nodded pensively. “Are we close?”

“I th-think so.”

Mabel’s hand found Dipper’s, and she squeezed it. He could tell she liked this as much as he did.

The Pines and their captive walked in tense silence for a few more minutes. Then, just as Dipper thought the tension would crush him, the stairs appeared. He — and Mabel — breathed out a sigh of relief.

Ford walked Tyler down the stairs, the twins following. Dipper didn’t much like the idea of an underground library in an underground lair, but if the Journal was down there, it’d be worth it. He steeled himself and descended the stone steps.

The library was tiny. Dipper still got the usual sense of vertigo he got in libraries — all that knowledge, sequestered away in books he’d never have the attention span to read — but it was made better by the small amount of books. He kept his stun gun ready in case there were Order members waiting to ambush them inside, but the library was empty.

When all four of them were inside, Ford let go of the stun gun with one hand and pulled a knockout patch out of his pocket. He peeled the wrapper off — somehow without letting go of the stun gun — and held it up to Tyler’s neck. “Much appreciated,” he said, and he pressed it onto the Order member’s skin.

Tyler dropped.

Ford caught him before he hit the ground and lowered him down onto the stone. “These stun guns do more harm the closer you are to the target. Shooting him when the muzzle was touching him could’ve killed him, which is why Fidds invented these knockout patches. I’m glad this guy did as I said, though. That could’ve ended badly.” He put his hands on his hips and turned to Mabel. “So, where’s my Journal?”

Mabel pointed.

Dipper and Ford followed her finger to a glass display case in the center of the room. “Oh,” Ford said. The Journal was standing upright, its golden six-fingered hand glinting in the dim firelight. The bold “1” on the cover sent a shiver up Dipper’s spine. This was really it. They had really found the first Journal.

“It. . . it’s really here,” Ford whispered. Dipper glanced up at his uncle to see him staring at the Journal in awe.

“How do we get it out of there, though?” Mabel asked.

Ford blinked, looking down at her. “Well, you shoot the glass with your grappling hook, of course.”

Mabel’s eyes widened, and she held the grappling hook to her chest. “W-won’t that hurt the Journal?”

“No,” Ford said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “The glass will absorb enough of the force that the hook shouldn’t even touch the book.”

Mabel looked doubtful, but she aimed the grappling hook at the display case. Her hand trembled a bit.

“You can do this, Mabel,” Ford said. “It’ll be fine.”

Mabel took a determined breath. Then she pulled the trigger.

Three sounds happened in quick succession: the gun firing, the glass shattering —

And an alarm going off.

Mabel looked to Ford in panic as a klaxon siren blared through the air. “That’s our cue to get out of here!” the Author said. He ran to the display case, brushed the broken glass aside with the stun gun, and snatched the Journal up into his arms. “Come on, kids.”

“But we’re so far from the entrance!” Mabel shouted over the alarm. “We’ll never make it!”

Ford bit his lip. “If dozens of Order members are on their way here, we probably won’t be able to shoot them all. But we have to get out, have to hide. . .”

A thought appeared in Dipper’s mind. He tried to shove it away — it would only work for one of them — but he couldn’t think of any better options. And they had to think fast. “I. . .” He hesitated, and Ford and Mabel both looked at him. “I can take the Journal. I can hide.”

“Where?” Ford asked.

“On the top of a bookshelf.” He pointed to the one nearest to the door. “People rarely look up when they’re looking for someone. I learned that from a movie once. I can hide up there, and I’ll be right above them.”

“This isn’t the movies, son,” Ford said.

“I-it works, though,” Mabel said. “I’ve used it to hide from bullies before.” She swallowed, held out her grappling hook. “Here. To get up there.”

Dipper took it. He had to hand his stun gun back to Mabel, though, because he didn’t have enough hands for two guns plus the Journal. “But. . . what about you guys?” Dipper asked as Ford handed him the Journal.

“No time to think about us,” Ford said. “They’ll be here any second, go!”

Dipper knew his great uncle was right. So even though he hated to just abandon them, he took aim at the bookshelf and fired the grappling hook. The hook caught hold on the top lip of the bookshelf, and, with the Journal held close to his chest, Dipper jumped. The grappling hook retracted, pulling him up through the air. For a second, he felt like he was flying — until he hit the bookshelf. He grabbed onto it with his fingers and scrambled up to the top.

He lay on top of the Journal, with the grappling hook by his side. Ford said something to Mabel, but Dipper couldn’t hear it over the blaring alarm. Mabel nodded, and she and Ford turned to run up the stairs.

They didn’t even make it onto the first step before a small army Order members came pouring into the library.

Ford immediately started firing the stun gun. He took two or three Order members down, too — but there were too many. They swarmed him, wrenching it out of his grip. Mabel fired Dipper’s stun gun and managed to hit one attacker, but then they were upon her too.

It took all the willpower Dipper had to sit still and be silent. He wanted more than anything to jump down and save Mabel and Ford — but how? He had no stun gun. He hadn’t been smart enough to bring a backpack like Mabel. All he had was the grappling hook and the Journal, neither of which would be effective against the Order members, unless he wanted to use the grappling hook to maim and possibly kill someone. Which he didn’t. He knew that they had a better chance of making it out of here safely if he stayed out of the way.

That didn’t make it any easier.

The Order members held Ford and Mabel immobile, wrenching their hands behind their backs. At first, Ford fought, swinging his fists with the brass knuckles and making contact with a few unfortunate Order members. Their sheer numbers overwhelmed him, though, and they tackled him to the ground and ripped the brass knuckles off his fingers.

“Don’t touch those!” he roared. At least, that’s what Dipper thought he said. Ford was yelling, but Dipper was so close to the klaxon that he couldn’t be sure.

The Order members grabbed ahold of Ford, ignoring his demand. One of them slipped the brass knuckles into her pocket, and the stun guns also disappeared into the robes of other Order members. The one holding Mabel snatched her backpack roughly from her back, putting it on his own shoulder. Dipper’s grip tightened on the Journal.

One of the Order members shouted something Dipper couldn’t make out, and a few of them fanned out to look for the Journal. They combed the library for a few minutes. Not once, however, did they look up. Eventually they reconvened, talking inaudibly. Then one shouted, loud enough to be heard, “Move out!”

Dipper watched in horror as Ford and Mabel were marched from the library. Why? Why had he suggested this? Why had he let them be taken? He had to save them, had to go after them!

He wrestled the impulse down. No. He had to wait until the right moment. And it was not now. He had to save them, yes, but he also had to keep the Journal safe. This would all be for nothing if they didn’t leave with the Journal. As he waited in agony atop the bookshelf, the alarm rang painfully in his ears.

Suddenly, the alarm turned off.

And Dipper was left in a horrific silence.


	10. Chapter 10

If only Ford were still fit.

It’d been years — thirty years, to be exact — since he’d done anything more strenuous than chasing after some kid who’d stolen merchandise off the shelves. Now, he had much worse to deal with than some obnoxious little troublemaker. Now, he was being manhandled by cult members who worshipped a being Ford had entirely forgotten about until recently.

Oh, he fought against them — being mournfully out of shape didn’t stop him from trying. As they paraded down the cramped corridors, Ford struggled against his captors, attempting to throw them off him. The two who held him were strong, but if strength was the only thing that mattered, he would be a failure at his profession.

After a while, he stopped struggling, as if he’d given up. He glanced over at Mabel, who was watching him with wide, terrified eyes. The poor girl. This was exactly what she had feared, and Ford had led her straight into this trap. He’d apologize in all sincerity when they got out of this.

Ford grit his teeth. He could be all emotional about this later. Right now, he needed to _escape_.

He waited a full twenty seconds before bursting into motion. He slammed his head against the jaw of one of his captors, kicked the other one in the groin, and wrenched his wrists from their hold. He was free, but he knew he wouldn’t stay that way for long. Brass knuckles. Where were Stan’s brass knuckles?

Oh, right. The knockout patches.

He reached for his pocket to get them, but that instance of a hesitation was too much. Three or four Order members tackled him all at once. Ford hit the unforgiving stone, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He was lucky he didn’t break a rib! He struggled to get up, to get out from under the Order members, but their weight was too much. He could barely breathe, much less fight.

The Order members pressed him against the floor, and the escape attempt was over as soon as it had begun.

 _Stan would be laughing at you right now,_ Ford’s brain noted.

Ford kept struggling against the hands that held him, but his efforts were weaker now. The pain in his back wasn’t fading. He hadn’t broken anything, he could tell, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d gotten plenty of nasty bruises from that fall.

An Order member, a dark-skinned man laced with tattoos, loomed over him. “I wouldn’t suggest trying anything,” he said in a deep voice. “Maybe you don’t care about hurting yourself. But we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your precious niece in the confusion of an escape attempt.” He leaned closer. “Now would we?”

Mabel whimpered.

Ford cursed himself. Why had he brought her down here? She hadn’t _wanted_ to come down here! If he’d had the idea to force an Order member to give him directions to the library earlier, he may not even have needed to bring her. But now she was here, a liability. And if she got hurt, it would be all Ford’s fault.

“Would we?” the tattooed man repeated. Oh, they were playing this game, were they? Childish, but fine. Ford would play along. And then he’d ram Stan’s brass knuckles into this man’s skull.

“No,” he said.

The man smirked. “Good.”

Ford was hauled to his feet and held fast by two new captors, a man and a woman who were equally muscular. As they resumed their march, Ford looked to Mabel and gave her a reassuring smile. She stared back, her lips quivering, like she wanted to smile back but just couldn’t.

As they walked down the halls of the Order headquarters, Ford found himself getting restless. If he wasn’t going to fight, what with Mabel being used as leverage and all, what was there for him to do? Sit here freaking out about what was going to happen to them? He’d learned a long time that panicking was the worst thing you could do in a situation like this.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination, though. Ford and Mabel were pushed through a doorway that led to a large, cavernous room. Not unlike the room that held the portal back at the Mystery Museum. Two underground rooms that both held obstacles to getting Ford’s brother back: the portal below the Museum, and an entire cult here.

An entire cult and their child leader.

Pacifica Pleasure clapped her hands in delight as Ford and Mabel were shoved forward. She wore her usual show outfit — Ford had never seen her in anything else. Somehow, she was wearing more purple than anyone else in the room, despite the deep purple robes of her cult members. “Oh, I just love when a trap works so well,” she said happily.

Ford thought back to Dipper, hiding in the library with the Journal. _Not as well as you think, Miss Pleasure_. Dipper might save them, but even if he didn’t, he’d at least get out safely with the Journal. Ford and Mabel could catch up later.

The Order members holding Ford and Mabel brought them over to a chair in the center of the room, pushed them to their knees, and handcuffed them to the legs of the chair. As soon as they took their hands off Mabel, she curled up in a ball on the ground, shaking. Ford moved to her and gathered her into his arms as best he could with the cuff on his wrist. She trembled against him.

“How sweet,” Pacifica said. “I don’t think you’d want much to do with her if you knew what she was really like, though.” She took Mabel’s backpack from an Order member who held it out to her and rifled through it. Her head lifted as a thought struck her. “Unless _you’re_ really the one in charge? Did she get it from you, Stanford?”

Ford had no idea what Pacifica was talking about, but Mabel and Dipper had warned him about this. So he simply held Mabel close and said nothing.

“I see.” Pacifica tilted her head. “You know, Stanford, I don’t know much about you. I know you run that rip-off of the Tent of Telepathy, I know you’re related to _her_ ” — she glared at Mabel — “and sweet little Dipper, I know you’re on the Cipher Wheel, and I know your mind is protected from Lord Cipher by a metal plate implanted in your skull.”

Wait. _What_?

“But that’s about it,” Pacifica finished.

Ford’s head — his _metal-plated head_ , apparently — was reeling from her words. He shook it off and attempted to pull himself together. _Never let the enemy know when they’ve unsettled you_. “Well, if you had wanted to know more about me, all you had to do was come to the Museum and find out.” Though she seemed to know more about himself than _he_ did, if she was telling the truth. He knew she was delusional, but. . . well, having metal in his skull would explain why Bill had appeared to Mabel and Dipper and Robbie, but not to him.

Pacifica gave him a simpering smile. “I had more important things to do,” she said. “But now, Lord Cipher tells me you’re a danger to him, and you only prove that by showing up to _steal_ from us.”

 _Don’t show her your anger._ Ford wanted nothing more than to leap to his feet and wring this little girl’s neck, but he couldn’t, and shouting would only work against him. “I was coming to retrieve something _you_ have stolen from _me_. A book written by my own hand. It’s rightfully mine. And if Bill’s afraid of me, then I must be a lot more threatening than I imagined.”

Pacifica drew herself up indignantly. “ _Lord Cipher_ is afraid of no one,” she said coldly. “Least of all you _Pines_.”

“Really?” Ford raised a disinterested eyebrow. “Then I see no problem with returning to me what I own.”

A muscle pulsed in Pacifica’s jaw. “Speaking of the Journal,” she said, obviously fighting to keep her voice calm, “where is it? You broke the glass and set off the alarm, but nobody has handed the Journal to me, and it’s not in Mabel’s pack.” She tossed the pack in question to the floor. “What did you do with it?”

Ford bit his lip, and Mabel lifted her head enough to shoot him a worried look. They couldn’t tell Pacifica the truth, especially not if Dipper hadn’t gotten out yet. So what would they tell her instead? They could say they hid it, but Pacifica would just send her goons to go search for it, and that might give Dipper away.

After thinking this over for a moment, Ford could find no good answer. So he once again stayed silent.

Pacifica stared Ford down for a bit, but then her eyes flicked away from him. “Oh,” she said, turning to. . . nothing. “Yes, Bill?”

Ford furrowed his brows, but a look from Mabel reminded him. That’s right, she’d said Pacifica could talk to Bill when she wasn’t asleep. That. . . that couldn’t be good.

 _Scrabdoodle_! Especially if Bill knew where —

Pacifica whirled around to face the Pines. “You brought Dipper _here_?” she shrieked. “You brought him along? Have you brainwashed him into thinking that your plans are _right_?”

Ford and Mabel exchanged alarmed glances. No, no, this couldn’t be happening, giving Dipper the Journal had been their only chance!

“And he has the Journal, too,” Pacifica said. Her eyes brightened. “Well, that’s not a problem. He’s going to bring it to me. You may think you’re so clever, Stanford, but _I_ know where Dipper’s true loyalties lie.”

Ford had to fight down an incredulous look. She really _thought_ that?

She pointed to the two Order members closest to the door. “Go find him and escort him here. _Gently_ , or you’ll regret it.”

The Order members gave a slight bow and slipped out of the room.

Pacifica turned back to the Pines, radiating satisfaction. “This night just keeps getting better and better. Mabel where she belongs, Dipper on his way to me, and you.” She looked directly at Ford. “I have you right where Lord Cipher wants you, Stanford Pines.”

She went over to a cabinet set against the far wall; an Order member moved out of the way to accommodate her. The remaining Order members were posted around the walls of the room, creating a foreboding perimeter of cultists. It created the creepy effect they were going for, Ford had to give them that, but it was demonstrative of poor tactics. If Ford and Mabel got free, they were closer to the door than at least half of the Order members and could easily make an escape.

“Ah, here it is.” Pacifica turned away from the cabinet. She clasped something in her hands, but Ford couldn’t make out what it was in this infernally dim lighting. “Gideon is usually the one in charge of wiping memories,” she said, “which I’m sure you were already aware of. But he’s not here right now.”

Mabel stiffened in Ford’s arms.

Pacifica took slow, deliberate steps toward the Pines. “We’ve had problems with not having an amulet user before, too. Did you know the amulet stops working once the user becomes an adult? I didn’t. Because _my_ amulet was _destroyed_ long before that time.” She paused to compose herself. “Once the blue amulet became a Northwest heirloom, they wouldn’t let anyone else use it. That meant that if the amulet holder grew up, and there was no other young Northwest to pass it off to, the Order would be unable to wipe memories. For _years_.”

“Good,” Mabel muttered, too low for Pacifica to hear. Ford wholeheartedly agreed.

“Luckily,” Pacifica continued, “we recruited a brilliant young mechanic thirty years ago. And he created this.”

Now she was close enough that Ford could make out what she was holding: a gun. It had an elongated lightbulb instead of a muzzle, and there was a dial on the side, but it was still a gun. And Ford. . . Ford had seen it before. Where had he seen it before?

A jolt of recognition surged through him.       

“I — I know that gun!” he blurted before he could stop himself. Mabel sat up, startled by the sudden outburst. “I — my assistant built it — I saw it around the lab — but I never knew what it could do.” He stared at Pacifica with wide eyes. “That gun erases memories?”

She smiled a triumphant smile. “Yes. And it can even get past that pesky metal plating in your head.”

“How do you know that?” Ford asked. But even as he said it, his heart sank. Was. . . was this gun responsible for. . . ?

“Because it has before,” Pacifica said. “Why do you think you forgot about your brother for all these years?”

No. . .

Ford felt himself slipping away into a numb depression. Fiddleford had built that gun. He’d built that gun _for the Order._ And. . . he’d used it on Ford? Even if he wasn’t the one to pull the trigger, he was responsible for the memory gun’s existence. Soupy memories floated across Ford’s mind, fragments of times he’d worked with Fiddleford. He’d liked him. He’d _trusted_ him. He’d never suspected. . .

 _No. You have to_ focus. Ford couldn’t shut down right now. He was still in danger. Mabel was still in danger. Dipper — with the Journal — was still in danger. Ford had to be strong.

Hard to be strong when your plans were unravelling before your eyes.

Pacifica started turning the dial on the memory gun. “You must have been shot with some sort of prototype, if you were able to remember your brother after all these years,” she remarked. “Don’t worry. This gun is much more lasting.” She looked up at Ford with a malevolent smile. “Once I shoot you with this, you’ll go the rest of your life not even knowing that you _have_ a brother.”

Unadulterated dread coursed through Ford’s veins. No. No, he couldn’t forget Stan. Not again.

“ _No_!”

Mabel suddenly shot up and put herself between Ford and the gun, the chain on her handcuffs going taut. Ford blinked. She. . . she was willing to put herself in danger. . . for him?

 _Both of you are already in danger_ , his brain reminded him.

“Move out of the way, Mabel,” Pacifica said, annoyed. “You’ll get your turn soon enough. I’m going to make _you_ forget about Dipper, so you can never hurt him again.”

Mabel faltered. Ford couldn’t blame her: Pacifica didn’t seem to be bluffing. She was really going to do it. Was this it? Was this the end of his quest to save Stan?

Pacifica moved to an angle where Mabel’s handcuffs prevented her from blocking Ford. She raised the memory gun. Ford stared it down.

_I’m sorry, Stanley._

The memory gun whirred as Pacifica put her finger on the trigger. The memory gun lit up as she prepared to shoot. The memory gun. . .

. . . Shattered?

Pacifica squealed and leapt back, dropping the memory gun. The bulb at the front exploded into a million tiny glass shards, but Ford found himself not caring if any of them got imbedded in Pacifica’s perfect skin. He looked to see what had saved him, only to find a grappling hook retreating into the shadows as it returned to its owner.

Dipper had arrived.

He stepped through the doorway, the grappling hook in one hand and the Journal in the other. Ford was annoyed that the boy had just walked in the middle of a cult that wanted the Journal, but that irritation was quickly drowned out by a more prevalent sense of relief.

“Oh — Dipper!” Pacifica hurried over to him. “Don’t touch him!” she snapped at the Order members that had moved to apprehend him. She smiled sunnily at Dipper. “I sent some Order members to bring you here, Dipper dear, where are they?”

Dipper assumed a look of innocence. “I didn’t see any Order members. We must have missed each other. It’s a maze out there, you know?”

Ford didn’t believe that too-innocent expression for a second. Dipper must have done something to incapacitate the Order members.

Pacifica laughed as if Dipper had just said the funniest thing ever. “Oh, I know. It’s fortunate you found me! And that your family was dumb enough to entrust _you_ with the Journal. You were just waiting for a chance to bring it to me, weren’t you?”

Dipper looked repulsed for an instant — that boy’s emotions ran rampant over his face — but he quickly covered it up with a smile. “Uh. . . yes.”

Pacifica beamed at him. Apparently she was ignoring the fact that he’d just destroyed the memory gun. Much like she ignored the fact that it was Dipper who destroyed her amulet, Ford supposed.

“Well, it’s okay now, Dipper. I’ve got them, look!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to where Ford and Mabel were chained. Dipper met Ford’s eyes, looking slightly panicked. Ford gazed steadily back. _Act the part, Dipper. Do what you need to in order to get us out of here._

Pacifica sighed. “It’s a shame the memory gun broke. I was about to use it to make them forget about you, Dipper dear. So you’d be free from them.”

Ford felt Mabel bury her head in his trench coat so that her face wasn’t visible. He could feel her lungs inflating and deflating in long, slow breaths, as if she was trying to force herself to calm down. The thought of forgetting Dipper was too much for her. Ford understood.

He understood far, far too well.

“Um, yeah, sorry about that,” Dipper was saying. “I, um. . . missed.”

It was the lamest excuse Ford had ever heard. The Order members thought so, too; they glanced at each other with worried expressions. But none of them stepped forward or said anything. They were apparently too afraid of Pacifica to challenge her views.

“That’s all right,” Pacifica said, patting Dipper on the arm. “It just means we have to get creative on what we’re going to do with them.”

From the look that flitted across Dipper’s face, he didn’t want to expend any creativity on that subject.

“Oh, Dipper,” Pacifica said happily, “isn’t this just wonderful? You and me, together, with no one in our way.” 

“Yeah,” Dipper said, though it took him a second. He bent down and set the Journal and the grappling hook on the floor. Ford stared hungrily at the Journal, just a few feet away from its creator. Whatever Dipper was planning, it had better be successful.

Dipper straightened. “Yeah, it is wonderful,” he said. And he pulled Pacifica into a hug.

. . . Okay then. Either this was part of Dipper’s plan, or he was just hugging people at inappropriate times again. Ford honestly couldn’t tell. It was a good thing Mabel was still hiding her face, though, or the sight of her brother hugging her enemy might make her hyperventilate all over again.

“I’ve missed you,” Pacifica murmured.

Dipper’s hand traveled up to her neck, pressed something against the skin. “We just saw each other a couple days ago.”

“Yes, but you were. . . in Mabel’s clutches. . . then. . .”

Pacifica went limp in Dipper’s arms.

He lowered her to the floor. “No,” he said in disgust, “Mabel was in _yours_.”

Ford realized what had happened at the same time as the Order members. They didn’t know Dipper had used a knockout patch, though — they just saw their leader unconscious on the floor. With various shouts of surprise, they all started for him.

Dipper looked to his great uncle in panic. “The pack,” Ford said. “There’s a stun gun in Mabel’s pack.” He pointed to it, and Mabel lifted her head when she heard her name.

Dipper lunged for the backpack, pulling out the stun gun and aiming it at his attackers. Anxiety rose in Ford’s chest — surely they’d stop him, just like they’d stopped Ford in the library. Surely they’d capture him, and then Ford would lose his Journal all over again.

But this room was far bigger than the library, and the Order members were rushing at Dipper from the edges of the cavern. See? Poor tactics. Dipper had plenty of time to pick them off one by one. He spun around, firing shot after shot. Ford was impressed by his accuracy — that firing range had really paid off, it seemed. Order member after Order member fell to the ground.

“ _Behind you_!” Mabel yelled. Dipper whirled and sent a shot in the direction of an Order member that was closing in. Mabel huddled up next to Ford, watching her brother in heightened apprehension. But she needn’t have feared — Dipper was holding his own.

With a few more shots, all the Order members were unconscious on the floor. Dipper turned back to Ford and Mabel, raised the stun gun so the muzzle was pointing upwards, and blew on it — despite there being absolutely no smoke. The gesture was purely to look cool.

Ford couldn’t help it: he smiled.

Dipper crossed the room and held out the Journal to Ford. “Here,” he said.

Ford took it, though he only had one spare hand. “Thank you,” he said. “You really saved us.”

Dipper grinned.

“Now, could you go search for a key in all their pockets? And Stan’s brass knuckles. And the stun guns too, since we don’t exactly have a limitless supply of them.”

“Sure,” Dipper said, heading to the nearest Order member. “Why can’t you just lift up the chair and slip the handcuffs off it, though?”

Ford gave him a weary look, even though Dipper wasn’t looking his way. “You think I haven’t tried that? This chair is bolted to the floor.”

“Oh.”

Ford and Mabel sat together while Dipper searched for the supplies. As he looked, Ford stared down at the Journal. This was it. He had the final Journal. It wasn’t safe yet — they still had to get out of here — but he _had_ it.

“Hey Grunkle Ford,” Dipper said, rifling through the Order members’ pockets, “do you think I hurt any of them? You said the stun gun gets more dangerous in close range. Are they gonna be okay?”

A part of Ford felt satisfied at the idea of a cult member having lasting injuries, but he tried to shove it away. _These people probably don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into_ , he reminded himself. To Dipper, he said, “They should be. There might be some lasting effects, but you were doing what you had to defend yourself. Don’t worry about it.”

Dipper bit his lip, but continued searching. It wasn’t too long before he returned with the supplies, having found the key around Pacifica’s neck and the weapons in the pockets of various robes.

He unlocked the handcuffs, and Ford stood up. He stretched to get the kinks out of his back — he still ached a bit from his fall earlier — and bent down to help Mabel up. She swayed a bit on her feet; Ford could tell she was exhausted.

She padded over to where the memory gun lay broken on the floor. After handing Ford the brass knuckles, Dipper followed her. “What’re you thinking?” he asked softly.

Mabel’s eyes flicked over to Pacifica’s unconscious form. “I was thinking. . . I wish. . . I wish we could use this on her. Make _her_ forget about _us_.”

“Yeah.” Dipper put an arm around her. “I was thinking that too. But I’d rather it be broken than used on you.”

Mabel hugged him.

“So, Dipper, how did you get rid of those Order members?” asked Ford.

Dipper looked sheepish. “Was I that obvious?”

“To me, yes.” Ford’s eyes slid down to Pacifica. “To her, evidently not. Did you use knockout patches on them, too?”

“Yeah,” Dipper said. “I hung from the ceiling with the grappling hook, kicked them in the face, and then jumped down and stuck ‘em with knockout patches.” He grinned. “It was actually pretty awesome.”

Ford patted him on the back. “You did a good job, Dipper. Now let’s get out of here.”

He put one stun gun in his holster and the rest in Mabel’s pack. He hesitated to put the Journal in there as well, but if they did run into any more Order members, he’d need his hands free. He slid it in behind the stun guns. Mabel looked too tired to carry the backpack, so he handed it to Dipper.

In fact, Mabel looked too tired to walk at all. She was falling asleep on her feet.

“Here.” Ford crouched down, his back facing Mabel. “Climb up on my back.”

There was silence behind him. “R-really?” Mabel asked.

“Really. You’ve already been very brave coming down here with me tonight. Helping you out of here is the least I can do.”

Mabel didn’t get on his back, though. Not until Dipper said, “If you won’t take it, Mabes, I will.” Then she put her arms around Ford’s shoulders and jumped onto his back. He lifted her up.

“Thanks, Grunkle Ford,” she murmured as Ford stood.

“Thank _you_ ,” he said. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

She put her head down on his shoulder.

With the backpack on Dipper’s back and Mabel on Ford’s, the Pines were ready to head out. Ford looked out over the unconscious bodies, his eyes lingering on Pacifica. Even without the memory gun, he would have to keep an eye out for her. And for all these Order members.

But he could worry about that later. Right now, they had cause to celebrate. They had the _first Journal._

“All right,” Ford said. “Let’s head home.”


	11. Chapter 11

As the Pines walked down the street toward the Mystery Museum, Mabel couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d made this trip.

She shivered in the cold night air and clung more tightly to Ford’s trenchcoat. That was okay, though. Of all the things she’d been reminded of tonight, this was definitely the best one. And this time, not only was she safe, but Ford had gotten his final Journal.

His final Journal. . . but also the first Journal.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said, leaning her cheek against the back of his head, “I just realized something.”

Ford hitched her up higher on his back. “What’s that, Mabel?”

“We found the Journals. . . we found them in reverse order. I found the third one, Gideon had the second, and the Order had the first. Three, two, one. Like a countdown.”

“Hey, you’re right!” Dipper said. “That’s gotta mean something, right?”

Mabel couldn’t see Ford’s face, but she imagined a smile splitting his wrinkled face. “That’s true, Mabel. I’m not one to believe in fate, but that feels like a good omen to me.”

“Yeah,” Mabel said sleepily. “Next is turning the portal back on and saving Stanley. Zero.”

They walked up the porch steps, and Ford let Mabel off his back. “You look pretty tired, Mabel,” he said. “Maybe it’s hypocritical of me to say this, but don’t you think you should get some sleep?”

 _Yeah_ , it was hypocritical to say that! Mabel stared at him incredulously. “No way!” she said. “And miss turning the portal back on?!”

Ford grinned. “I thought you’d say that. Though we’re not just turning it back on and rescuing Stanley tonight. We still have a long way to—”

The door opened.

“Melody!” Dipper exclaimed, and he barreled into the housekeeper. “We’re back!”

Melody laughed and swung him around. “I thought I heard voices! You have no _idea_ how anxious I was waiting for you three.” She paused and gave a wry smile. “Well, I guess you do have an idea.”

“An inkling,” Ford said. He stepped into the house, and Mabel followed. “Dipper, would you go grab the other two Journals? They’re in the lab.” He took his stun gun out of his holster and held it out. “You may as well take the stun guns, too. Although. . . I think I’ll keep these.” He slipped the brass knuckles into a pocket.

“Okay!” Dipper raced off down the hall.

“You’re going down now?” asked Melody.

Ford gave her a flat stare. “Yes, and before you remind me what time it is, I’m perfectly aware.”

How? Mabel hadn’t seen a watch on him. _She_ didn’t know what time it was, though her body was telling her that it was late. Ford must just be exaggerating.

Melody raised her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t going to stop you, no way. The kids look like they’re running on fumes, but I’m guessing they wouldn’t willingly go to bed, either.”

“Nope,” said Mabel, “we’re staying up. We gotta see _this_.”

“Agreed, which is why I’m not insisting everybody go to bed right away.” She raised her eyebrows. “Though I _technically_ have the legal authority to.”

“Thank you for reminding me, I had forgotten.” Ford rolled his eyes.

Thundering footsteps in the hall announced Dipper’s return. “Got ‘em!” he said. “Let’s go!”

Mabel’s heart fluttered as she saw the three maroon-bound books, two in Dipper’s arms and one in Ford’s. This was it. This was really happening.

The four of them made their way out to the gift shop. It was dark, save for the soft fluorescent light coming from the vending machine. Ford stepped up to it, reached his hand out to type in the code, and paused. “You all should probably know the code too, just in case.” And he typed it out slowly so they all could see.

“How’d you remember it, Grunkle Ford?” Dipper asked as they started down the stairs.

“It’s in the third Journal.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “It is?”

“Yes,” Ford said. “I tucked it out of the way, with no context, so it would just look like random gibberish to anyone else. But when I saw it. . . well, that was when I remembered that there was something behind the vending machine.”

“Awesome,” Dipper breathed.

They reached the elevator, and Melody hesitated just outside it. “Are you sure that thing is safe?” she asked. “It looks like could collapse on just one person, much less four.”

Ford frowned. “It has been sitting here for thirty years. It held the twins and me just fine, but if it would make you feel better, we’ll split up and take two trips.”

“That would make me feel better,” Melody said.

So Mabel and Ford went first, with Dipper and Melody to follow. Dipper handed off the second and third Journals to his sister with a wide smile. That smile helped chase off the threads of Mabel’s weariness.

The elevator was just as dark as Mabel remembered it. “Y’know,” she said, “if we’re gonna be using this a lot, we should probably get a light in here.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Ford.             

The elevator came to a stop and slid open. The room outside the elevator was just as dark, but Mabel could hear Ford’s hand moving against the wall, and lights came on a moment later.

Last time she had been down here, Mabel hadn’t been able to make anything out. Now, she could see the bulky machines that lined the walls and the control station a few yards away from the elevator. Ford headed for the station, setting the first Journal down on the desk, and looked through the glass at the hulking triangle of metal that lay beyond. “Mabel,” he said, his eyes not leaving the portal, “my other Journals, please.”

She handed them to him, and he placed all three Journals next to each other. Three, two, one.

Mabel glanced up at Ford’s face. There were no tears in his eyes, just a satisfied determination. He opened the Journals one at a time, flipped to the page with the portal blueprints, and arranged them so that they formed a picture of an upside-down triangle, mirroring the shape of the portal.

Behind them, the elevator doors opened again, bringing Dipper and Melody into the room. Dipper came running over. “Are those the blueprints?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Ford said. “Yes, I remember now.” Sitting at the chair next to the control station, Ford started flipping switches and pressing buttons. He glanced at the Journals for reference every few seconds.

Mabel stifled a yawn as she watched her great uncle work. Melody caught the gesture and raised her eyebrows at Mabel, but didn’t say anything.

Dipper gasped. “Mabes, look!”

She followed his pointing finger to the portal. It was lighting up! The lights surrounding the perimeter flickered on one by one until the triangle, the circle in the center, and the four surrounding circles were all illuminated.

Ford stood up so fast that he knocked his chair over. “It’s working!” And he rushed for the door that led to the portal.

Mabel scrambled after him, with Dipper on her heels and Melody following behind. Ford made his way across the room to a big lever just in front of the portal. It looked way too heavy for Mabel to pull, but Ford put his hands on it confidently.

He looked back, a smile creasing his face.

“Here we go,” he said to his companions. And, surrounded by the blue lights of the portal, Ford pulled the switch.

“Zero.”

The portal hummed to life.


End file.
